Searching for My Soul
by InaLndofMyth
Summary: “Not wine,” the boy said softly. His hypnotic green eyes flickered to the bones scattering the ground. Blood. The pond was a pool of blood. And Annabeth’s hands were coated in it.
1. chapter 1

The young woman sighed as she bit her lip, turning and twisting her decision over in her mind, doubting and questing and wondering and dreading again and again and again. There were so, so many sacrifices she must make; so many experiences and moments she would give up should she see this act through. Her life would be completely altered, as would her family's. Could she do this to them? Could she tear away what they had know for years?

 _Cease these thoughts_ , she reprimanded herself firmly. She took a shaky breath. Worrying would do her no good. What was done was done; there was no turning back. She couldn't reverse this, as much as she wished to the stars and moons beyond. She simply couldn't. It was inevitably, irrevocably happening.

A door creaked open a floor below, that the woman heard with her sharp ears. Footsteps echoed beneath on wooden slates. They paused just before the first step of the narrow staircase. They were waiting.

It was time.

She turned to the bed and tearfully bid her room, her home, her life and her loves farewell. She forced herself to ignore the snoring from the bed. It tore her heart to pieces to leave them all like this, but she didn't have a choice. She hope and prayed that they might understand in time that she did not have a single choice.

The young woman paused at the door frame. Despite her forbidding thoughts, she glanced over at the wooden crib. Oh, how it pained her to leave her precious little love without a word or farewell or a memory to remember her by. Before being able to hold herself back, she flew to the crib's side and grasped the baby's small hand.

The baby would wake a few minutes later, unaware of the woman sobbing downstairs as she was lead away from her life. The baby was unaware of the love that once lived in the home. The baby was unaware of the pain, despair and betrayal the absence of the woman would cause. The only thing the baby could possibly be aware of was the unbearable, burning sensation as flames awoke and licked and curled all around until the baby was swept into oblivion.


	2. The Beginning

**_A/N: Ahhh! I'm seeing Harry Potter and th Cursed Child today in NYC, both shows, third row from the stage. I'm so excited!_**

 **Chapter 1: The Beginning**

Annabeth Chase had always been utterly and completely sure of three things in her life.

One- Her father's office, two doors down the hall and four doors away from her bedroom, was always, always locked. For as long as she could remember, she had never been permitted entrance. When Malcom and she was little, they would hide behind the potted tree in the hall and try to catch a glimpse of the mysterious room as their Father entered and departed in a hurry. He always managed to snap the door shut right before they could get a good, clear look. The only thing the two Chase children could see was a normal looking desk and swivel chair in the center of the room. What was so secretive about that?

Two- Her family was not picture perfect, despite her biological parents' close relationship. Seventeen years ago her Mother was unexplainably drawn away to business elsewhere, leaving behind two motherless children and a wifeless husband. But goodie for her, her Dad soon found another wife and two more children, twin boys, were added to the family. Annabeth harbored a strong sense of hatred towards the other woman (who hadn't done anything to be worthy of such resentment), for she was not and never would be Annabeth's Mom—the Mom that carelessly walked out on her family, as Helen frequently liked to remind her.

And Three- Annabeth did not have a soulmate. Everyone in the world had a Soulmate, everyone but Annabeth. The tales state that the ancient deities suffered along the mortals as they watched the silly creatures live loveless and miserable lives. The deities generously gave the mortals a possession only known to the highest—the gift of love—so that all the mortals of the future may one day live in happiness and prosperity with their Soulmate.

Every child was taught this story, their history, from the moment they are born. And Annabeth knew it by heart, word by word was burned into her brain from many nights of whispering by candle light in a rocking chair.

Everyone in the world was born with a tattoo inked somewhere on their skin; this was called a Soul Searching Mark. A small set of numbers were placed near their Mark; these numbers counted down the exact years, weeks, days, minutes and seconds to the finding of another with the same half. Then, the two identical Marks would merge; they would be completed as a whole and their numbers fade; a symbol for all the world to know that that person had found his or hers Soulmate.

Everyone in the world knew of Soulmates and Marks, for the moment they were born they were born out of love and their parents delightfully informed them of their sweet future. Everyone in the world awaited the day of finding their Soulmate with a fierce anticipation. They have heard the bewitching and enchanting stories of how their parents met and they cannot wait to experience the flying sparks themselves.

But not everyone in world was destined to find their Soulmate. Five percent of the people born with half a mark would die with half a mark. Not a soul could change this horrible fate from happening—it was just the way it was. Sometimes, one's Soulmate might die before meeting their destined love. Sometimes people did not care about the mark and simply regard it as a hoax, leaving their poor Soulmate mateless for life because of their selfish, naïve actions.

And others had more complicated reasons as to purposefully not attend their Soulmating. Twisted reasons. Wicked reasons. Reasons of such darkness that the people of the Soulmating world often pushed away and into the shadows, intending to keep them concealed forever.

The citizens of Othrys each had their own personal deadline to find their Soulmate. Some folks have decades of waiting, while others only a few short years. One pair of Soulmates found each other at only five years of age. A rare coincidence.

The most commonly known deadline was that of eighteen years.

" _Trust the numbers. Trust the Marks. Trust your Mate. And trust the deities. You will find one another and you will be happy." These are the words the people lived by; the words that had been embedded into Annabeth's mind._

Soulmates almost always happen to live in the same city as each other; so finding one another should never be a difficulty distance wise.

And some folks were born with a dominate side that assisted them searching for their Soulmate. This wasn't completely rare. No. The true rarity was that of when one who had already found their Soulmate, their numbered return. A Multi-Mate. A very, very rare case indeed. Many did not wish to speak of it. Many attempted to conceal it. Many tried to do many things to ignore it—but Annabeth's Dad was not one of this many.

To Annabeth's knowledge, Frederick Chase had had two Soulmates in his life. There was her and Malcom's Mother, his first Soulmate and previous love. And then there was Helen. His second Soulmate, mom of Annabeth's stepbrothers Bobby and Mathew; the eldest Chase's stepmother and the blunt of Annabeth's ill will.

It was a sour, shocking day when Frederick announced his seeing of another woman, but it really shouldn't have been in the slightest. After all, it had been the two-year anniversary of his wife leaving and eighteen months since his numbers reappeared.

Annabeth was too young to understand who Helen was at first, but after following Malcom's lead Annabeth grew to be more than capable of despising Helen herself.

But despite the Chase's tense family dynamics, all thoughts and feelings of disagreement were far from their minds. For today was Annabeth's seventeenth birthday, and her numbers were coming to an end.

Her wrist sung her time of singleness was only a mere three hours and six seconds away. Less than a day, less than a week, less than a month or a year or two or three or—or—or—or. She took a breath. _Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. Breathe._

The government kept record of every set of new numbers that occurred every year. When a person's time drew near to finding their Soulmate, they were asked to journey to the heart of the city. There, no one was really certain of the following events. Some said that one must go through a harsh trial of interrogation before meeting their Soulmate. Other claimed there ass a test that only the brave and painless could past, ensuring them a Mate. But everyone knew what happened at the very end of the mystery: those who were fortunate would find their Soulmate, and those who were unfortunate were never seen again.

"I am ninety-nine percent positive that you will find your Soulmate," Frederick Chase said. He watched Annabeth braid, unravel and re-braid her hair in the full length, hallway mirror. Nerves and ADHD did not mix well, she could detest to that.

"Only ninety-nine percent," Annabeth said dryly. "How flattering. What of the other?"

"Hmm?" Helen stepped into the small hall, planting a kiss on Frederick's check.

Annabeth contained her grunt and focused on plaiting again, imagining her fingers were Helen's neck as she wrapped her blonde hair around and pulled tightly, cutting off all circulation to the flesh. "What of the one percent?" Annabeth said.

Frederick shook his head and grinned warmly. "Don't worry. My dad only gave me a fifty percent chance, and look at me now!"

"Two wives and four children later." Annabeth smiled grimly. "Go you."

Frederick and Helen stiffened. Frederick looked lost as to how to handle his child. His thoughts were a conflicting consideration of Annabeth's Soul-Mating and that of her down right rudeness. Helen forced a fake, sugary smile upon her face. Smile after smile, that's all Annabeth had been greeted with this morning. She had never seen so many taunt, fake and masked emotions before.

"You must be excited," Helen said sweetly. Annabeth wanted to vomit. "I know I was."

"Yes, because you waited so very long," Annabeth muttered. She finished off her plait and inspected herself critically in the glass. Despite her best efforts to tame her hair, a few defiant curls refused to be pressed down into a braid. Stay locks of gold hair framed high cheek bones and gray eyes.

Her uncle claimed she looked just like her Mother. Many people did. But the women they had claimed she a splitting image of was that of seventeen years ago. Surly her Mother would have aged a bit. Would she even be recognizable seventeen years later?

Annabeth cleared her throat, straightening the white dress she was forced into wearing. "I'm ready. Where's Malcom?"

Malcom, a practical splitting image of Annabeth and her dad, cane rushing towards her (quite literally out of nowhere) and scooped her into a large hug. He had found his Soulmate six months ago, a peppy, annoying and pretty girl. She wasn't really who Annabeth had thought Malcom would end up with but the Marks had never been wrong before, and Malcom seemed genuinely happy with his Soulmate.

"Mal!" Annabeth gasped as she tried to take a breath. He let her go and grasped both of her hands in his.

"You'll do great," he promised. She had been cross with him due to his refusing of sharing about the Soul-Mating procedure. But Annabeth forgave him in the moment as gray met gray, their eyes betraying everything that their mouths made to hide, and she tugged him close for another hug.

"I'll be fine." They didn't dare mention the five percent. "Give K my love, yeah?"

Malcom pulled back and stared at her intensely. His blonde hair seemed to glow in the hallway light. Little particles and floating dust were golden specks to the ehe. "Yeah."

She squeezed him extra tight before releasing her older brother. Then Helen surprised everyone by swooping in for a quick embrace. Both women were as stiff as a medal rod twice over, but Annabeth hated to admit that she sensed Helen's intentions were only that of comfort and encouragement.

Annabeth slipped away quickly and turned to Frederick, car keys in hand. She checked her wrist.

 _ **0y.0m.0w.0d.3h.36m.6s.**_

She had three hours till she found her Soulmate, and the city's center—their location—was an hour away. Hopefully if everything went as accordingly, she would return home tonight with her Soulmate.

"Let's go."


	3. The Marble Hall

Annabeth nervously taped her foot against the white marble floor. Her taps echoed into the large hall she was instructed to wait in. She and Frederick had arrived at Othrys—the capital and namesake of the beloved city—where everyone in Othrys went for their Mating. Her father was left sitting in a pristine, sterile smelling lobby while Annabeth was lead through a set of mahogany doors, down a long and empty corridor and seated in a marble hall. Annabeth sat alone, but not for long. Soon the large and vacant hall began to fill with boy's and girl's, women and men, teenagers and young adults and even one middle aged women, who looked embarrassed to be there.

"Excuse me."

 _A Multi-Mate_

Annabeth stared at all the different people in the hall, wondering if he or she would be the person with whom she would spend the rest of her life with.

"Hey, Blondie." Annabeth diverted her stare from the poeple to her right. A girl with long, glossy hair glared at her with electric blue eyes. Annabeth briefly checked her wrist, but the seconds still flew at an alarming speed.

The raven-haired girl poked her shoulder harshly. "You talk? Hello?" She slowed down her words as if Annabeth was hard of comprehending, or spoke a foreign language. "HE-LLO. HO-LA. N—"

"I can understand you!" Annabeth exclaimed hotly.

The girl widened her eyes in mockery. "Why, she talks! Who would've known!"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. Idiot. She reached over and stuffed her hand into the girl's back pocket—

"What the h—" the girl began.

—and pulled out a wad of chewing gum. Annabeth smiled as she unwrapped the stick, tossing it in her mouth and crumpled the wrapper in her fist. "Nice to know you haven't changed a bit."

The girl chuckled as she popped her own piece of gum into her mouth. "Good to see yah, Annie."

Annabeth narrowed her eyes, but her heart wasn't in to it. "You too, Thalia."

Thalia settled herself next to Annabeth on the marble bench. Annabeth fidgeted as she took in the older girl's appearance, comparing it to her own. While Annabeth wore a simple white sundress, Thalia sported a black shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Her jeans were dark and ripped as well. The black rings, earrings, bracelets, chains and spikes adorning Thalia's body far outdid Annabeth's plain single ring.

"How are you?" Thalia asked. Her eyes, heavily layered with thick eyeshadow, were filled with concern and pity. Annabeth hated pity.

"How did you get in here?" Annabeth said instead.

Thalia smirked. "Pure brilliance. No, Luke works at registration. Put in a word."

Annabeth widened her eyes. "Does that mean then—?"

Thalia nodded shyly and Annabeth had to contain a shriek. Thalia _had_ ended up Mating with Luke Castellan after all. She, Annabeth and Luke were childhood friends. Thalia and Luke had sort of took Annabeth in when she ran away from Helen at seven. From then on the three were inseparable, Thalia and Luke more so than they thought they let on. Annabeth knew from the moment they'd met that the two would get together.

"I'm so happy for you two," Annabeth gushed.

Thalia waved her excitement off as if it were nothing, but Annabeth saw happiness glittering in her eyes. "He managed to pull a few strings for me. I'm gonna watch your Mating."

And with that, all her previous thoughts and doubts and fears resurfaced again. _Watch_? Annabeth thought wildly. Would she be on display for everyone to see? Would she have to perform a humiliating task in front of a crowd?

Thalia widened her eyes when realizing she had let information slip, and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"C'mon Thals!" Annabeth cried desperately, earning her a few suspicious glances throughout the room. She payed them no attention. "Tell me, what is it like? Will it be horrible? Is there some sort of awful procedure?"

Thalia shook her head. "I can't tell you, Annie. You know it would be violating the Law and the deities."

Annabeth slumped, glaring at her feet. The "deities" were a figure of speech the government used as a means to keep the citizens under control. Despite having a very big religious following, the deities were as real as fairies or leprechauns.

Of course, Annabeth didn't dare say this out loud. Her tongue would be cut out if she had.

"Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just piss my pants, but I'll be fine."

Thalia ignored her, glancing about the marble room. Annabeth followed her gaze to the glass dome, something she hadn't noticed before. The architecture was truly amazing, she realized, as she took in the white pillars supporting a balcony of glass. Little rainbows danced across Annabeth's face as the light filtered in through the glass.

Just then, a man in a bronze suit stepped out onto the balcony. Annabeth started to comment but she choked on the gum she had forgotten in her mouth. Thalia whipped out a glass from seemingly nowhere and passed it to the blonde. A bit of water sloshed over the sides as Annabeth gulped it down.

The man held up a hand for silence and the hall fell quiet like grasshoppers in the cooling summer air. Something on his finger twinkled in the morning light. A ring, Annabeth presumed.

"Greetings." He rumbled after a pause of suspense. His voice was a deep baritone, like the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires or leaves breaking on a crisp day. "In just a moment you will all file into the Chamber. There, we will proceed with the Mating."

"Who's that?" whispered Annabeth.

"Sonork," Thalia replied quietly.

Annabeth arched her eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"It isn't his _real_ name. Names hold power. Crazy, omnipotent, elusive power. They never reveal their real names here."

A thought struck Annabeth. "Does Luke?"

Thalia pressed a painted black nail to her lips. She nodded to the balcony. Annabeth frowned slightly. Even now Thalia bossed her around. Annabeth wasn't seven anymore.

Sonork was still droning on, speaking of places called Tartarus and Elysian. Meaningless words, Annabeth thought—hoped—prayed—as a shiver ran down her spine and the white marble all around seemed to dim.

Annabeth glanced about the hall, trying to pick apart the cold, stiff demeanors around her. Were they as nervous as she is? Scared, maybe even terrified? She caught a glimpse of herself in the puddle by her feet—her socks were drenched and she hadn't even noticed till now—Annabeth's expression was that of one might wear walking to their doom; and it might very well have been. A breeze danced through the hall, rippling the image of her frightened, gray eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. She checked the puddle again. There was nothing there but her plain reflection staring back at her.

But she could have sworn—Thalia jabbed her in the ribs and her gaze snapped back up to Sonork.

Sonork finished his speech with a dramatic bow at the waist, and swept from the balcony. A pregnant pause seized the hall of inhabitants for about twenty seconds, before the room was filled with the ruffling of swishing skirts, brushing pants and thirty pairs of shoes striking the ground. Annabeth stood with the crowd and was swept along like a piece of seaweed caught in the tide.


	4. The Mating

**Chapter 4: The Mating**

 _Did you see?_ Annabeth desperately wanted to shout to Thalia. _Did you see the face in the water_? For a split, minuscule of a second, Annabeth caught a glimpse of a pair of hooded eyes peering back at her. They were hypnotizing and intriguing—Annabeth found herself captivated in the gaze. But then a draft had danced through the hall, rippling the puddle, destroying the image, and all that was left was Annabeth's own ashen features.

But Annabeth could not share her thoughts with anyone, no matter how strong her desire was, for they were underground, in the dugout tunnels below the city, and everyone knew of the horrors that dwelled beneath the earth. Mothers warned their children that if they listened on a night such as the Winter Solstice, they just might hear the shrieks and cries of the imprisoned creatures from layers of rocks and dirt and roots below.

People had spread rumors of sighting monsters during their Mating since it all began—stories that included demons emerging from shadows and beasts dropping from the above—all summoned by the human's noise called speech—and Annabeth didn't dare make a sound if these myths had half a chance of being laced with truth.

But the biggest secret was hidden inside Othrys, not underneath. A city built on mysteries, keeping the grandest mystery of them all.

Was Thalia watching her right now, somehow? The older girl had taken her leave immediately after the group of soon-to-be-Soulmates had been lead from the Marble Hall.

That was thirty minutes ago. And thirty minutes had since past of stumbling in the near dark over roots as thick as her body and rocks as large as her head. It was a miracle that Annabeth hadn't tripped over a stone and cracked her head open.

"Horrible, isn't? So stale... so dim... smells like death..." muttered a boy who had trudged silently by her side... up till now. He wore a rainbow colored beanie upon his curly hair, beat up converse and a tie-dye shirt: he looked about Thalia's age—a few years older than Annabeth—and a bit slighter and lighter than herself which would've been depressing if Annabeth wasn't preoccupied with more dire thoughts.

"Mind you, I like the earth very much," he continued. "I'm the president of the recycling club and I help pick up trash every Saturday... its dreadful, really, how awful humans treat the earth—they trash it and pollute it and tear it down... it isn't like we've got another planet, so I don't know why humans are so keen on destroy the only one they've got. I just... I just prefer to be above the ground, not beneath it."

Annabeth was sure her smile looked ghastly; forced and creepy under the feeble light from the few torches that littered the tunnel. But A for efforts, right? It wasn't her fault that the fates had cruelly stuck her with a chatterbox.

"Pardon me," the boy said. He stuck out his hand. This gestured made Annabeth check her own—the numbers were still flying by, counting down to that specific time.

Preoccupied with her contemplations, Annabeth did not notice the hard lump of dirt that was nearing her in the path and promptly tripped, sending her falling through the air. And to make matters worst, her legs somehow got caught with the boy's and he went crashing down with her.

She grunted as his shoe made contact with her ribs.

"I'm sorry," they chorused as they laid sprawled on the ground.

Annabeth had half a mind to simply stay there and close her eyes. A nap would be nice.

But the boy clearly had other ideas as he began to untangle his legs from hers. "Grover Underwood, here. I figure we ought to know each other's names if we're already falling onto one another."

Annabeth hoisted herself upright and offered him a hand, unable to conceal a genuine smile. "Annabeth Chase."

"Pleased to me you."

"Likewise."

Grover laughed feebly, adjusting his hat as he stood.

"Listen, I'm sorry—"

"WHAT IS THE HOLD UP?" Thundering footsteps echoed throughout the tunnel; dirt and bugs rained down from holes in the walls and ceiling. Sonork thundered to a stop, directly in front of the two. "Explain!" he snapped irritably.

"Sir, we only tumbled—"

"You only tumbled? ONLY TUMBLED? Why would I care in the SLIGHTEST BIT if you ONLY tumbled? Hmm? Anyone?" His piercing stare bore into anyone who dared to look. "Yes? No? NO! The answer is no, to my rhetorical question that you have failed to answer!"

Annabeth and Grover shared a bewildered look.

"NO! I would not care in the SLIGHTEST BIT if you two had twisted an ankle, split open your lip, or even died." Sonork turned on his heel, marched back to his place at the front of the group—the people parting for him like the Red Sea—and gestured with his hand.

The crowd shuffled forward, straining their necks to peer at something hidden to Annabeth by shadows. Her heart lept into her throat. Was it a monster of the lores, ready to sing her a song of promise and enchantment as it ate her flesh. Or perhaps a scaly beast, ready to claw our her eyes and feast upon her heart. Whatever it was, it couldn't be all that dangerous, could it? Her Dad or Thalia would've warned her beforehand, wouldn't they? But then again, Annabeth knew her family shared the same thoughts as her friends; they believed in the Deites and they trusted the Laws.

Annabeth didn't want to admit this, but it was very possible that there was something her friends and family hadn't told her about the Mating... something that could very well be fatal.

Grover gave her a weak smile when it was their turn, stepping forward bravely and bracing himself.

It was a giant couloir, so very deep that darkness seeped in and impaired the ability to see the bottom. The other side was almost invisible as well, the only thing Annabeth could make of it were jagged rocks and more tunnels.

"This is why your little tumble would be so dire," Sonork said darkly. "Five feet off and you two would've been over the edge and lost to us forever. Consider yourselves lucky to be alive."

Annabeth couldn't tear her eyes away from the pit. It was like staring at the night sky. She and Malcom would stargaze for hours when they were young—it was one of the few happy memories Annabeth possessed—the captivating twinkling of lights drew her in and brought her up, up, up, and for a few moments, even far enough above from the cruel words of Helen. She could stare at those stars for hours. If she looked long enough, more and more would appear. She might even be able to see the Milky Way, or whole galaxies riddled of new planets and constellations. These dangerously liberating feelings came tumbling towards Annabeth once more as she stared at the hole. Why, the girl even thought she had seen the glimmer of a light right in the middle of the Chasm.

Annabeth blinked disorderly. First it was eyes in a puddle, now lights in a ravine.

Hands clapped joyfully, bringing her from her stupor. A man in a brown and white striped suit stood at Sonork's right hand. "Gather 'round, gather 'round!" He called gleefully, beckoning to them all. His eyes searched their faces for a reaction as if he were a vaudeville performer and they the delighted audience. He gathered everyone in a circle and Annabeth was pleased to say that she stood the farthest from the pit.

"You all must be terribly nervous, with this being your first time on the Chasm, are you not? But you need not worry, my friends, for the government has everything under control! Trust us, hmm? Yes! Place your trust in us, and we shall return the favor. Oh-ho!" he said happily. "A Multi-Mate, are you? How wonderful! Why, I don't believe we've had a Mulit-Mate in years! Welcome, welcome."

The middle aged woman Annabeth had noticed in the Marble Hall now appeared very uncomfortable under the inquisitorial stares of the group.

"Yes! Now!" The man cried again, forcing Annabeth's attention back to him. "Let's get on with it, shall we? For this is the moment you've all been waiting for!" He spread his arms wide and called with an elated grin: "Let the Mating commence!"


	5. Excellus 99

_A/N: I sincerely apologize, this chapter is truly Chapter 4 and last Chapter was 3. I messed it up because I had forgot to put Prologue and thought the Prologue was Chapter 1... so I'm sorry about the confusion again, now let's go on with the story!_

 **Chapter 4(truly!): Excellus 99**

Annabeth didn't know what to expect of the Soulmating, but the countless scenarios that played in her head definitely did not include playing a get-to-know-you-game by the edge of a deep ravine. She could hardly take him seriously, the man in the striped suit who introduced himself as "the General, Gorillas and Brown!"

Annabeth and Grover exchanged bewildered glances, as if saying, are you kidding me?

When it was Grover's turn, he mumbled his name, grasshopper and green. The General was just about to go on to Annabeth when Grover's shoulder started glowing. Annabeth looked around wildly, breathing a sigh of relief because everyone seemed to be seeing the same thing as she. The General was staring at Grover, a wide grin illuminated on his face. "Please show us your numbers."

Grover adam's apple bobbed as he unzipped his jacket, tugged his collar down in one harsh move. The crowd broke into hushed whispers and chattering; when Grover looked for himself, he gasped as he stared at his shoulder in amazement. His numbers were no longer the color of black ink. Now they were gold; pure, glowing gold, and they had stopped counting.

Another gasp was heard, and Annabeth turned to see a girl staring at her glowing palm in wonder. The girl and Grover locked eyes from across the circle.

A deafening silence filled the air. Annabeth swore she could hear every heart in the room beating, every pulse, every breath and sigh.

"Ladies and gents... our first Mating."

The Chasm burst into a ruckus of cheering and jumping and hooting and hollering. Several people clapped Grover on the back and the girl was pulled into many joyous hugs. Congratulations' and good for you's and so happy guy's echoed around. Annabeth was positive Grover hadn't known anyone in the group and they hadn't know him either, but for a brief moment of time they had all come together and rejoiced as one. This was genuine happiness.

"Congrats, Grover!" Annabeth called as he was passing her. He turned around and gave her a wide smile. His ear was twitching.

"I can't believe it," he said quietly over the sound of the crowd. The Chasm seemed to intensify the noise of the people, or maybe there were more joining in celebration then Annabeth failed to see. Was Thalia watching them, right now? She said she would be. But Annabeth didn't have a clue where the older girl might be.

"Did it hurt at all?" said Annabeth.

Grover shook his head. "It actually felt really nice. Like..." he furrowed his brow, trying to find the right words. "It was like running your hand under hot water after feeling numb with coldness. At first it almost hurt, but then the pain lessened because I knew it'd get better in the end."

Annabeth touched his arm. "May I see—?"

Grover pulled down his shirt again and she stared, transfixed, at the golden numbers.

A thunderous sound of clapping caught the group's attention. "Everyone!" Annabeth turned to the General. "Let us say farewell to Grover and Juniper, for they have completed the Mating and will be sent back to Othrys. I am sure you will all see them very soon, very soon!"

The Chasm filled with goodbyes and good wishes as Juniper took Grover's hand and they were escorted away.

The Mating continued again, and more and more couples were Mated. The Mating flashed by in a whirlwind of golden numbers—and soon, it was only Annabeth, two others, and two minutes remaining on her wrist. Annabeth was truly panicking now. She's heard of Multi-Mates, but not during the same time period. Was that even possible?

Turned out she needn't worry about that, because the two girls were Mated almost immediately. They didn't even need to say their name or favorite food or whatever, they just looked at each other and poof. Flash. Gold. Happy!

1m30s

"Well, well, well..." The General cocked his head at Annabeth. His eyes scanned her up and down in a way that made Annabeth want to throw on layers and layers of clothing. She hated feeling so... so naked, so exposed.

"So." She croaked. Her palms were sweaty.

1m23s

The General slid a hand into his suit pocket and pulled out a device. It looked like an old house phone with the whole spinning numbers and curly cord, but the phone needn't be hooked to a wall. The General punched in a combination and put the phone to his ear.

1m17s

"Hello?" He said. The recipient was staticky and hard to hear but somehow the General was holding a conversation. "Yes," he said. "Excellus 99, please. Prepare and bring."

The General clicked the phone and put it back into his pocket. Annabeth coughed. He looked at her in surprise, as if he had forgotten she was there altogether.

"What happens—" her voice cracked. She swallowed harshly, wishing for a glass of water. That made her think of Thalia. Was Thalia watching her? Did Thalia care that she didn't have a Soulmate? "What happens now?"

1m03s

The General gave her a sympathetic look. "I don't have children. Annoying things, really. Always crying. Always wanting something else, something more. They're little attention seekers and time thieves. Horrible little creatures."

He stared at the couloir. Vast, empty and dark. So very dark. Annabeth had never been afraid of the dark before, but that hole certainly didn't appear welcoming.

"But my friend had a daughter, and she seemed alright. She was about your age when she went in for her Mating. She—she was a good girl. Did well in school and stuff. Always had lots of boyfriend or whatever. But I haven't seen her since."

Why was he telling her this? His words weren't exactly... comforting.

"What's in the pit?" Annabeth whispered.

The General chose to respond not in words, but by snapping his fingers. A large part of the dirt wall slide away to reveal—

"Kelli?!" Annabeth cried.

Annabeth had never felt such joy as she did seeing Malcom's Soulmate standing in a hidden doorway, which was probably why she didn't notice Kelli held a syringe in one hand and a small chip in the other.

"Hello Annabeth," she sighed. She stepped into the Chamber and peered around at the dirt and rocks and bugs in disgust. "They couldn't spruce it up at all?" She muttered to the General.

He smirked knowingly and tapped his nose. "They're all for intimidation, my dear."

Kelli turned to Annabeth and smiled a closed mouth smile. Her stare creeped Annabeth out—it was like looking into a corpse's eyes, knowing it was dead and it's soul was gone.

"How are you?"

Annabeth made to speak, but Kelli beat her to it. "Oh, how silly of me." She laughed gaily. "What an awkward question. Never mind. Tell me, Annabeth, what do your numbers say?"

Annabeth lifted her wrist. "30 seconds."

Kelli tisked, shaking her head. A piece of hair fell in her eyes. "If there were only one more," she said sadly. "She does still have time."

"Noooo," the General bawled. He shuffled out of sight. "It happens now."

Kelli huffed and brushed the lock from her face. That's when Annabeth saw the instruments in her hand.

Annabeth's eyes widened. She made a sound between a strangled gasp and a squeak. What's going on? She wanted to yell, but a hand clamped over her mouth before she could react. She tried to breathe as she was suffocated but her vision immediately blurred and hazed. A blindfold was tied around her head and just as she slipped into oblivion, she felt the tiniest prick upon her skin.


	6. Alluring Land

_**A/N: Hello! I am NOT dead, surprisingly. I had a hard time writing this chapter. I struggled with finishing this but I (unfortunately) have fallen ill with a cold, providing me with lots of spare time to write. I hope you enjoy it. I had the writing of Margaret Rogerson from her book "An Enchantment of Ravens" as inspiration, which is truly a remarkable book by a very talented author.**_

 _ **And, surprisingly, also BBC's Merlin on Netflix.**_

 _ **Both stories have much to do with nature, lores and magic.**_

 _ **And as every fanboy and fangirl deeply wished that they did (but sadly do not): I do not own Percy Jackson. That and that alone belongs to Rick Riordan, and I am in no way being payed to indorse his books. I am merely writing** fan **fiction for pleasure, as thousands before me have.**_

 ** _Now on with the story!_**

 _She was in hell._ That was Annabeth's initial thought. A bright light buzzed over head, one of those dangly lights with a single bulb that you pulled on a string to switch on. Gray concrete walls surrounded her on four sides and a cell block stood ten feet away, half hidden in shadows and chains. Goo oozed from the walls and the ceiling. Dust blanketed the floor and rust covered the metal chains.

She blinked dreamily.

There were manikins and statures everywhere, discarded arms and feet and heads scattered about. Their naked bodies glistened as water dripped down their limbs and curves and edges. Expressions of terror were plastered upon their faces. Mouths opened in silent screams, eyeless sockets widen in horror.

Annabeth blinked again. She sat up—despite the massive headache pounding near her temples and the aching of her body—for there were spiders. _Everywhere_. Annabeth was in a small room with six white walls. Spiders crawled from beneath the walls and through the cracks and crevices. Into the room they came in droves, all heading towards her. Their furry bodies were drenched in blood—her blood—and their spindly legs had chunks of flesh sticking to them—her flesh. Annabeth screamed as a spider neared her shoe. It morphed from the size of her palm to as big as her head. She squeezed her eyes shut when realizing she was surrounded, waiting for the monsters to devour her very soul.

The spiders never attacked.

Annabeth opened her eyes. She was in a forest. Not a hint of spiders anywhere. Annabeth quickly stood from the ground—thinking that if there was the slightest of chances of the spiders returning, she would not be the closest to them—and a gasp caught in her throat. The forest was beautiful; the oaks all around were large and old and withered, their leaves a vibrant combination of greens and reds; the forest floor was dirt with a light blanketing of purple wild flowers, no longer a sea of spiders. The flower's sweet fragrance was addicting and ambrosial; sun shined down through the foliage, warming Annabeth's face; birds sang in the trees and critters chattered in the underbrush.

Annabeth forced herself to focus, in spite of the yearning to smile and stay forever in the woods. The last thing she could recall was standing in the Chasm, suffocating and blind. Her hand inched over her mouth. There wasn't anything preventing her from speaking or seeing. This roused a tidal wave of questions. Where was Thalia? Where was her Dad? Where was Kalli or the General? Was her brother in danger with Kalli? Where was _she_? Was Annabeth even in Othys anymore? She scanned the area. There was nothing for miles but trees and ferns and more trees. Not a single glimpse of a mountain or a city in sight.

Annabeth wanted to panic. A human urge would be to flee or find help, but the only thing she wished to do was lay down and make a flower crown. _Stay_ , a voice sighed. She didn't care if it came from her mind or a frog. She wanted to obey it with a deep passion. _Stay with us. Stay, and you shall be granted with eternal joy, content, and beauty. You shall be loved, adored and praised. You shall want for nothing. What could be better?_

 _Love_... That word jilted her. She heard it when she was little but the number was a dwindling count as her years grew. But there was no love here. _To_ love and to _be_ loved were two entirely different things. One needed another to be loved.

Suddenly, Annabeth felt a terrible thirst—it clawed at her throat and tore at her insides. Water. She needed something, anything, to quench her unbearable thirst and to cease the fire that was licking at her dry mouth. It was almost as if the forest had ears; a soft sighing rustled the foliage, the leaves and branches parting way to reveal a wooded trail. Annabeth followed the breeze past roots and flowers and logs, her mind only thinking of one thing: water. Annabeth stepped on something that gave way to her feet. She immediately dropped into a crouch. Extending a slender hand, pushing on the springiness. Moss. Annabeth laughed in delight. Moss meant water. Green moss blanketed the floor, creating a plush path that twisted behind a tree, out of view.

The mossy path lead Annabeth to a small, grassy slope. The grass swayed in the breeze, revealing a small pond shaded by a great weeping willow. Was it a mirage? Annabeth blinked, daring it to vanish. The pond remained, it's glass like surface rippling every so often as the willow's branches grazed the water. It was real. Annabeth almost fell down the hill as she tried to get to the pond, her thirst grappling at her throat and her mouth was dry and red. She knelt by the water's edge, cupping the cool liquid in her hands.

Annabeth was just about to take a much needed sip when a voice rang out, sharp and clear: "Do not drink the water."

Annabeth almost tumbled into the pool in surprise. "What?" She rasped stupidly. She scanned the forest and the hill, but saw no signs of human life. Could the voice be only that of the wind in the undergrowth?

Annabeth bowed her head, intent on sipping her fill, but an image in the water made her freeze. It wasn't her reflection that startled her (despite her atrocious appearance; her once-white-dress was black with dirt and her hair was more fly-aways than plait). It was the distinct figure beside her.

Annabeth whirled around, but there was no one there. She peered into the water again... yet there he was, grinning cockily as he sat Indian style on the grass. His messy black hair was perfectly disheveled and his figure was clearly that of an athlete, or a very athletic person. If she had been with Thalia, Thalia would had swoon for her. But what caught Annabeth's attention most of all was his eyes, which had to be his most prepossessing attribute. The orbs were a striking shade of green; regardless of his years that appeared to be in a close of range of her's, his eyes held secrets of ancient lands, mysteries as old as earth, myths as true as rain and experiences unfathomable. In short, this boy was frighteningly otherworldly and wore an air of maturity upon his shoulders.

"Who are you?" Annabeth asked, feeling foolish for speaking to a reflection.

The boy appeared startled, staring at her accusingly. "You can see me?" He demanded.

"In only the water."

The boy turned and stared at his side incredulously, as if he really was kneeling besides her. "You _can_ see me..." he said again, almost wistfully.

"Yeah... and hear you," Annabeth frowned. She really ought to be freaked out by the current events but water was the only thing on her mind.

The boy waved his hand passively. "They can always hear."

" _They_?"

"The E—" He pressed his lips in a thin line, and Annabeth huffed in vexation. She was becoming quite familiar with secrets being kept from her.

"Never mind," she said hotly. Her throat throbbed and so she bent over to cup water in her palms once again. "Now, if you'd excuse me—"

" _ **NO**_!" Something, someone, of great strength gripped her arm and tore her away from the pond, throwing her to the ground on her back. Annabeth sputtered incoherently as she spat hair out of her mouth, her words dying in her throat as she stared at the scenery.

The once beautiful woods were now dripping (quite literally) away to mere shells of the healthy sight they were a moment ago, losing their green and lushness, their leaves were now dry and cracked and their branches resembled spindly limbs. The grass and flowers withered beneath her feet, dying in waves as weeds rolled in place of blades stems. The bird song and animal chittering died instantly in a loud cacophony of silence—unbearable silence, like the kind one heard when submerging their head beneath the water. Fog rolled in from between the tree trunks, covering the ground in an unearthly, creepy, glowing haze. The smell of death and decay filled the air; the sweet ambrosial aroma of flowers would not be found here. The sun still shined, but it was no longer warm and comforting. Now, it was cold and chilling and felt as though it was a spectator itself, mocking and judging the dead forest. Or maybe it was spectating Annabeth herself, jeering at her ignorance.

Annabeth stood slowly in a dream like trance, hardly believing her eyes. Oh, how she wished this was all just a dream. All that was living and beauty and pleasant had been replaced with death, repulsiveness and rotting, within seconds. She needed to get out—to leave—to run—to flee.

A sound of crunching startled her. She whirled around—and almost screamed—for not that the boy from the pond was staring at her, but for the blanket of weeds he stood on. It was now a pile of bones. _Human bones_. The boy with his healthy glow looked incongruous with the ghastly skeletal trees behind and stark white field of bones below.

"Look at the water," he whispered with a daring, mad glint in his eyes while gesturing with his hand.

Annabeth glanced at the pond. The water, once pale, refreshing and a soothing blue, was now practically black and sluggish. The surface remained still but in an eerie sort of way. The boy encourage her to touch it. Hesitantly, Annabeth outstretched a hand. Her fingers came back stained and dripping in what looked like wine.

"Not wine," the boy said softly. His hypnotic green eyes flickered to the bones scattering the ground.

Blood.

The pond was a pool of blood.

And Annabeth's hands were coated in it.

 ** _A/N: Yes, me again. I just want to say PLEASE REVEIW! Let me know how you liked this chapter! How I can improve, what you wish to see from the story or the characters, or if you didn't like the story at all. Any idea? I'm kind of stumped on th story plot honestly! _**

**_Anyway... Thank you, every review is greatly appreciated!_**


	7. Master of Entrancement

_A/N: Thank you for all the reviews on the previous chapter, I really appreciated them! I tried to make this chapter longer for those who asked._

 **Chapter 6: Master of Entrancement**

"What is this place?" Annabeth muttered, her voice muffled by her hands which covered her face. She didn't want to look at the bones or the blood or the decay around, trying to block out the sights and smells from her conscience.

" _You can see it?_ " The boy had asked in wonder, gesturing to the desolate, horror-ish scene. This was several minutes ago. " _Fascinating_."

 _Fascinating_ was not a word Annabeth would use to describe her current situation. Gruesome, or nightmarish, seemed a better fit for the description. The boy—who had refused to reveal his name—paced back and forth. He wore a cream color shirt and black cuffed pants with suspenders; a midnight blue cloak donned his shoulders, and he had no shoes. Annabeth shuddered at the thought of stepping on bones barefooted.

It took the boy a few moments to respond, opting to stare at the pond of blood rather than Annabeth. "A land of ancient enchantments and wicked necromancy. This place is riddled with dark spells; designed to lure prey into its clutches and remain there forever."

Annabeth felt the blood rush from her head as she lifted it from her arms. "Is that then—then are—those are human?" She waved her hand to the field of bones.

"Yes."

"And the forest?"

"An illusion. Powerful Darkcraft meant for weak, gullible minds."

"W-what—" Annabeth gulped in the stale air. "What would've happened if I'd sipped from the pond?" Her stomach churned unpleasantly just thinking about it.

The boy paused his pacing and stared at her thoughtfully. "You would had tasted the most refreshing water to man, unaware that as it flowed throughout your body it, it shut it down."

"Lovely," Annabeth muttered. Her head slumped into her hands again.

"Do not to go fainting now," he ordered.

How kind. Annabeth shifted on the rock she had found buried beneath a human skull, tarnished with gray filth. It was the only thing suitable of a seat, meaning it touched the ground and wasn't a bone of some sort. _I need to go home_ , she thought. _But how?_

"You cannot go home," the boy told her impatiently, as if she couldn't remember something he had already told her. "Why would you even think about returning to the barbarians that casted you out in the first place?"

Annabeth stared at him uncomfortably and she had a nagging thought... Annabeth stared at him intensely. _How do you know of Othrys?_

The boy snorted. "Everyone does."

Annabeth snapped her fingers and leapt from the rock, deliberately ignoring the cracking and crunching. "That's it! As I thought!" She cried triumphantly. Then her ears caught up to her brain. "Everyone?" She said.

"SHHH!" The boy peered into the dark woods, searching for something beyond the forest edge. All that Annabeth could make out were shadows of trees and tumbling mist. "Do not disturb the Manticore," he snarled, his tone chilling and Annabeth swore his eyes flashed a murderous shade of scarlet.

"What's a Manticore?" Annabeth said in a hushed voice. His eyes were green again. Was the light playing tricks? "And who's everyone? Are there more... _you's_?"

The boy heaved a great, irritated sigh and trudged over to her, snapping and breaking a femur and rib cage beneath his bare feet. He plopped down, resuming an almost identical position to the pond's reflection. Annabeth slowly sunk to her knees to meet him at eye level. "A Manticore is one of many beasts that call this land home. It has the body and head of a lion and a tail that shoots fatal spikes of poison. The Manticore has spent centuries... observing, this glade and all of the inhabitants—some call it the Master of Entrancement itself, but they forget there are even greater things than the Manticore."

Annabeth's stomach plummeted as if was a stone someone had thrown it into a well. "You're kidding." Annabeth blinked at him, appalled. She was pretty sure she looked like a goldfish. "Right? You've got to be kidding. There are no such things... no such things..."

"Listen!" The boy scowled. "This place, this land, this is _not_ your home. You have no idea what you have walked in to. There are unspeakable monstrosities and vile atrocities that even the shadows cannot hide. Do not be so quick to determine what is real and what is false. Our limitations of reality are far more pliable than yours in every way."

Annabeth stood from her crouching position, pushing away the spiral of dread in her stomach with ease, having perfected her queasy feelings a million times before. "And that is why I want to go home! _**NOW**_! I never asked be to here! You have to help me get back—don't you know a way?" She almost whined. "You seem to know everything about this place. There _must_ be a way to leave."

The boy moved faster than humanly possible, leaping up and standing much to close in proximity to Annabeth's person. His expression was that of furry and his eyes really were scarlet. He towered over Annabeth, making her wonder his height. It made her 5'7 figure seem dwarfish, and she had a rock for a five inch advantage.

"Do you not get it?! You cannot go back! You cannot go _**HOME**_!" He spat out the word with such repulsion that it had Annabeth wondering if his feelings were based on a personal experience. "It is impossible! Unthinkable! You are not allowed to leave. And besides, you're on my land—illegally, might I add—"

" _Illegally_?"

"—as you have broken a law."

"For _what crime_?!"

"Trespassing!" The boy snapped. She wished he would get out of her personal space; his face was much too close to hers and she found it very uncomfortable. "According to the Fifteenth Commandment."

"Are you crazy? You're making allegations; calling me a culprit for appearing on your land—might _I add_ that is absolute hell—that I hadn't any control over?! Do you know how utterly insane that is?" Gods, didn't be ever get riled? Despite his scarlet eyes, he wore an expression of boredom. It was infuriating. "What are you going to do, take me to court?"

He tilted his head, his scarlet eyes dimming a little. "What is _Court_?"

"Seriously?!" Annabeth threw her hands up in exasperation. "It's... a place to discuss conflicting matters," she supplied through gritted teeth.

"You mean the Council," he said.

"Sure. Yes. Whatever!"

"Shhh!" The boy hissed, his eyes darting to the forest again.

"For goodness sakes, lighten up!" Annabeth snapped after a pregnant pause. "Whatever you think, whatever horror you are _sooo_ sure will appear is surly—

A loud roar sounded in the air, making Annabeth's ears ring and her body vibrate as the ground shook beneath her. A shadow she had mistaken as a bush on the edge of the forest began to grow—larger and bigger and wider and taller, until the familiar form of a human-like figure took shape. The boy kept his eyes locked on the shape as it drew nearer and clearer, the trees vibrating and shaking with movement. "Damnit," he muttered, shooting a heated glare Annabeth's way.

Annabeth ignored him, squinting as the person morphed into a familiar face. "General?!" She exclaimed.

Indeed, it was the peppy General in all his striped-suit glory and bright disposition. "Hullo!" he called, distastefully stepping over a clawed hand protruding from the ground. He made his way across the field—stopping, suddenly, about five yards away from Annabeth. His eyes twinkled in the cold sun, and that was when Annabeth realized that one was blue and the other was brown.

"Do not come any closer," the boy warned.

"Say, whatever for?" The General cooed.

The boy chose not to respond, instead drawing a sword that Annabeth _definitely_ had not seen in his hand a mere moment before. He stepped in front of her and wielded the weapon; the strange-colored-blade made a hissing sound as it sliced through the air, thick and heavy with death and smell; daring the General to come closer.

The General smiled pleasantly as if they were only friends chattering over tea and biscuits. "Now, now, there's no need for that."

"Leave. Now."

The General chuckled darkly and began stalking toward them again. Was it just Annabeth, or did he seem to grow taller every few steps? When he stood directly in front of the boy, he was about ten feet tall and the top of the boy's head reached the General's shoulder. "You are not the one giving orders today, Sire," he said mournfully.

"Then tell me," The boy said through clenched teeth. "Who is it that you answer to, if obviously not I, and we both know you are not a creature of your own conscience."

The General bared his fangs—fangs?! Annabeth didn't recall him having fangs before—and turned up his nose. "My Commander's identity is none of your concern. You, Sire, of all people should know that information is best when concealed."

The boy shifted his weight restlessly. "Head my warning," he said in an almost impossibly low tone. "Leave and you shall be spared."

"With pleasure," the General quipped. "But in response..." he stepped back and sunk to his knees. "Heed _mine_."

In a flash the General had been replaced with a beast Annabeth could only assume as the Manticore. It snarled viciously, poison dripping from its lion jaw; it pawed the ground several times, splitting rib cages and fingers on impact; its tail... almost like a scorpion's, swung to and fro in a playful banter with Annabeth's eyes.

 _Mind the tail_ , a voice warned in Annabeth's ear. It might've been the boy's—but his mouth was closed and it sounded feminine... yet he _could_ mind read and a mythological beast _was_ fighting them to the death, so Annabeth figured anything, such as communicating telepathically, could very well be possible.

Annabeth ducked in time for a handful of razor sharp spikes as long as her forearm to sail over her head and imbed themselves in the weeping willow's trunk. The Manticore's eyes—a shade of blue and brown—were trained upon Annabeth's form. It captivated her gaze and held it within its own as it slinked toward her. Annabeth would've happily sat like a waiting duck for the Manticore to finish her off, if not for the boy who sprang out of nowhere and brought his blade down, right across the beast's back.

His blade might've been made out of cardboard for it harmlessly ricocheted off the Manticore's fur without leaving so much as a scratch. The beast seemed infuriated, however, and directed its attention to its attacker—the exact response the boy had wanted. "Have you been using conditioner on your fur?" He taunted as he ducked more flying spikes, teeth and claws. "Or bullied a cyclops into creating armor for you?"

"Neither!" The Manticore shrieked as he failed to injure the boy. Annabeth's head swerved back and forth, watching the interactions exchange like a tennis match. "I have bathed in the River Styx!"

Annabeth could not explain the next few moments even if she tried. The boy had continued to fend off the Manticore, success running low on both sides, when Annabeth felt a an odd stinging sensation in her head. It was like the time she had drunken too much sparkling grape juice combined with a brain freezing. _You must find a weak point, a voice said in the boy's voice. It has a weak spot. Find it, target it,_ hetossedher a small dagger and fortunately theManticore did not seem to notice or care about theweapon _. Do not hesitate to land a blow._

Annabeth studied the beast with such intensity she felt her eyes blur. It's fur was somehow impenetrable and so she could not stab its side or back and it's tail, mouth and claws were also a no-go. Annabeth scowled as the boy shot her a look that clearly said can you kill it already? He wasn't giving her much to work with.

Annabeth finally decided upon a course of action; she would try to stab the Manticore in the stomach in a place where there was a little patch of skin, no fur. She waited until it sprang up on it's hind legs to duck under and jab its underside. Had Annabeth been familiar with the Manticore and fighting mythical monsters in general, she would've known to duck the scrabbling claws and teeth that were sure to come. But her attention was only on aiming a hit and she literally had no idea what she was dealing with, so she was taken aback when she felt the skin on her side split apart like taunt strings suddenly cut from a lyre.

Blood and pain blossomed in Annabeth's abdomen as she rolled away from the Manticore, clutching her side and swearing profusely. The boy continued his battle and she was dismayed to see that the dagger had done little harm to the monster. Annabeth hissed as she took her hand away from her side, it was drenched in blood.

 _Duck!_

A silver arrow wizzed past her ear, cutting a straight line to the boy and the beast.

" **WATCH OUT**!" Annabeth called; the boy jumping out of the way just in time for the arrow to find its mark in the Manticore's leg. The Manticore froze in mid leap; its jaw in a ferocious roar, its claws and tail extended—before completely crumbling to the ground, the only trace it left behind was a small heap of gold dust and a silver arrow nearby.

The boy pulled Annabeth to her feet and spun them around. A tall, billowy girl with chestnut brown hair and copper colored skin stood at the edge of the forest with a bow in position to fire. She wore a silver circlet in her hair, adorned a shimmering chiton and her brown eyes sparkled with confidence and power.

"Sire!" the girl crone and she thankfully lowered her bow. She danced across the field to where the arrow protruded from the ground. Gracefully, she plucked it up and wiped the slimy arrowhead on her chiton—not a hint of filth rubbed off onto the glimmering material. "'Tis been some time since thou have last set eyes upon thee."

The girl slipped the arrow into the quiver that hung down her back. She absentmindedly played with the hem of her skirt as she took in a bloody Annabeth.

"Zoë Nightshade," the boy returned stiffly. "Always the perfect timing, no?"

The girl giggled, but her eyes held anything but humor. "Who is this?" She gestured to Annabeth who felt quite faint and lightheaded from blood loss.

"A—" Annabeth paused, replaying Thalia's words.

"Wise Girl," the boy supplied. Annabeth was too tired to argue so she simply nodded.

"What a peculiar name..." Zoë mused, eyes narrowing theslightestbit. "How lovely to meet thee."

"Zoë does not believe in substitute titles," the boy told Annabeth.

"But names hold power," Annabeth said.

"Yes!" Zoë said. "And thine should learn how to fend off such power, if it is attainable."

"We both know it is attainable." The boy had an odd tone in his voice that Annabeth couldn't quite place.

"Yes," said Zoë again, mournfully, and the two seemed lost in thought.

The boy coughed and hardened his gaze. "I suspect she is a mortal. I found her in the Glade of Entrancement—she did not seem to know her location and was pretty heavily influenced by the Darkcraft—yet she was capable of seeing my image in the pond."

Zoë nodded along, as if every word made sense, but Annabeth could hardly believe what he was saying. "Do you mean to tell me that you aren't... aren't mortal?" Annabeth said faintly.

The boy looked surprised, as if he thought she had already knew, and then irritated, because she hadn't. "Yes," he said crossly. "Where do you think the sword was retrieved from, the knife?"

"Your... pocket?"

"A fully-sized sword?"

"Oh dear," Zoë trilled. She waggled her eyebrows. "Thou has insulted thee now."

"He's fine," Annabeth said sharply. Honest to anything, men were bloody annoying.

Zoë laughed shrilly and sashayed to Annabeth's side. Annabeth forced herself not to flinch away from the almost unearthly being. "Thee has the properties of a Hunter!" Zoë cooed. The boy looked uncomfortable as Zoë distastefully picked at Annabeth's hair and clothes. "With the proper garments, thee could surly look the part."

"Erm..."

"Speak up!" Zoë encouraged.

"W-what's a Hunter?" Annabeth said, feeling stupid.

"A Hunter is only the greatest honor a woman can have," Zoë said. "Thou serves the Lady Artemis by hunting the terrorizing beasts of the land. In return for loyalty, thou is supplied with an unbreakable bond of sisterhood and internal life, unless if thou were to fall in battle or break thy oath."

"Immortality?" Annabeth said in a hushed wonder.

Zoë's eyes twinkled in the sun like stars upon a blanket of clouds.

"She will not be joining the Hunt," the boy intercepted. Annabeth shot him a vicious glare that he purposely ignored. "Do you recall how well your last recruit made due?"

Zoë stiffened so abruptly, so sharply, that Annabeth feared she might snap her spine. The girl stiffly patted Annabeth's hand and readjusted her quiver. "It was a pleasure to see thee again," she told the boy coldly. "Thee best get her to a physician if thou do not wish to repeat my Hunter's demise. Give thy best regards to the Ghost King."

The boy's expression darkened as Zoë took her leave, blowing a kiss to Annabeth and flitting away to hide among the trees once more.


	8. Magic is Magic

**Chapter 7: Magic is Magic**

"You're hurt," the boy duly noted. He cleaned off his sword and returned it to his pocket—or wherever it was that he kept it. Annabeth offered him the knife but he shook his head, leaving her with holding it awkwardly at her side.

"Isn't it unwise to arm a trespasser?" She quipped. A thousand questions ran around in her head, such as ' _who was the Ghost King'_ — ' _what happened to Zoë's friend'_ — ' _and what transpired between the boy and the hunter'?_

The boy snorted and took her elbow. "You cannot harm me," he said as he lead her into the woods. With him by her side the skeletal trees and rolling mist didn't seem quite so horrible as she had imagined. "You can try, be my guest, but it would be like striking me with a plastic knife."

"Yeah. Right. S'cause you're not a mortal." Annabeth said as they overstepped rotting logs and withering bushes. "Are you going to tell me what you are?"

The boy only shook his head.

Annabeth tore her arm from his grasp, tripping over a rock. She would've fallen on a dead carcass if not for his quick reflex's and sturdy hand. "Careful," he said with a scornful look. "We do not want another Manticore incident."

"I'm trying to be!" She hissed, a blush blossoming on her cheeks. "I don't know who you are. You could be another... _thing_ , like he was. A monster. You could be trying to kill me. You could be walking me to my death. I don't know and I don't like not knowing so will you just _tell me what you are_?"

The boy studied her. "I will not turn to golden ashes upon my death," he said ominously. "When my kind die, our forms remain as they are to be buried or burned or wrapped and the essence of ourselves depart our bodies in search for another form."

"You have multiple lives?" The awe was clear in Annabeth's voice.

"If we wish so."

"Is Zoë Nightshade one of you?"

"In a sense."

"In a sense? What is that supposed to mean? What are you?"

"I... am not your enemy."

Annabeth stamped her foot and to prove that her irritation was so great, she didn't so much as flinch when her shoe was soaked with muck and grime. "Stop speaking in riddles and give me a direct answer!"

"A direct answer? A direct answer? Pray tell me, _is_ there such a thing as a _direct_ answer? Every truth is a personal bias. Every straight course must commence from something that isn't always straight," he mused. He took in Annabeth's scowl. "Fine. This is my reply: I shall heal you. Is that clear enough?"

"Crystal!" Annabeth snapped as she pushed hair out of her eyes. She waited for him to magically produce a bandage or something, but he only turned his back and continued walking. "Hey—wait! Where are you going?" Annabeth rushed to catch up with him. She didn't like her unfortunate circumstances but she'd rather be with the boy than alone in the creepy woods.

"I cannot heal you here. The Glade is like a man's unquenchable thirst; the Darkcraft will devour everything that it can and will destroy anything else remaining."

They walked for miles. After the first hour Annabeth began to see a slight change in the woods; still dark and drab, but there were little sprouting buds on lithe limbs and cracking bark. The second hour was rewarded with flowers filling the stale air with sweet aromas and scents. Annabeth wished to cover her nose and take a deep breath simultaneously. By the third hour Annabeth's breath grew shallower with every step she took and her side had escalated from a gentle throb to a consistent ache. Another hour still, and Annabeth could not breathe without pain sabotaging her breaths.

"Stop!" She finally gasped, taking shelter beneath a canopy of red leaves. Annabeth perched on large roots and clutched her side. _Stupid_! She chided herself as she saw how large the blood stain had grown. She should've made a tourniquet or done something to stop the blood flow initially but she hadn't anything to use.

"Here." The boy took off his cloak in one elegant swoosh and knelt on the ground, gently holding the soft material to her side.

"Stop doing that," Annabeth told him half heartedly.

"What?"

"You keep reading my mind!"

"Oh... sorry... out of habit, I suppose." He had the decency to look apologetic.

"It's fine. Whatever." Annabeth felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. The events of the day were terribly taxing and she couldn't imagine continuing on in the manner that she was. Everyone had their limitations, their breaking points, and Annabeth was about to reach hers.

She expected the boy to insist they keep walking—their destination still unknown to her—but surprised Annabeth when instructing her to lay on her back with the forest floor as her blanket. The boy sat back on his haunches and slitted his eyes. Strange words of a foreign tongue tumbled from his lips as he held out his palms facing the sky; his eyes adopted the scarlet gleam once more and his whole figure seemed to illuminate.

The most captivating thing happened, then, in that small clearing. The boy extended his fingers and grasped the tumbling mist, pulling it and shaping it with two hands until he crafted a radiant floating ball of mist. The orb was no longer the color of normal fog—now it took on a greenish-blue hue that reminded Annabeth of little pools left behind at low tide. The boy rested one hand on her bare stomach that tingled with the contact of his flesh and with the other hand he brought the levitating ball to her wound. Quivering shafts of warmth exploded in Annabeth's abdomen, swirling and twisting and snaking around her belly. The sensation was rather odd, like a muscle had fallen asleep in her stomach and was now waking up in fluttering patterns, and it was a bit painful but terribly wonderful at the same time.

She did not trust the boy (she wasn't an idiot) but she trusted herself and her instincts told her that his intentions were good, so Annabeth closed her eyes and relaxed as she felt blood course back into to her veins and her skin stitch itself together. It was mildly uncomfortable but tolerable as long as she didn't think about needles and thread—she had a phobia of needles.

After a few minutes the boy let his hand drop to the ground. Annabeth sat up, studying her side; it was swollen and angry looking and would inevitably end up scaring, but the worst was over.

Or so she thought.

"We need to prevent the poison." The boy announced as he climbed to his feet, brushing invisible dirt from his pants.

Annabeth had to take a double glance her abdomen to finally see the odd discoloring and black webbing that curled in her veins. Blood poisoning.

The boy offered her his hand and hoisted her upright.

"How much further?" Annabeth asked, keeping her voice light as she tried not to panic.

"Not much at all." The boy gripped her shoulders, his breath causing her flyaways to rise and fall upon her cheek, turning her slightly so that she was facing him. "Close your eyes."

Annabeth felt a gush of wind rip through the clearing and everything intensified without her sight. Leaves fluttered from groaning branches, roots split and cracked, logs tumbled around the ground, sound rushed to her ears and she was almost knocked off her feet (balancing with your eyes closed on an uneven forest floor was _not_ easy). She felt like a girl from the story of the cyclone and the witch and the flying monkeys, distorted and excited and scared all at once.

"We are here."

Annabeth slowly opened her eyes, only to be blinded by a brilliant aquamarine light. No, not light, she thought as she blinked disorderly; colors, shapes and sizes swarming into view. It was water. Water was blinding her, which didn't make sense because she was standing in a dried up forest—the boy nudged her arm, nodding to a place behind her ear. She turned swiftly and was not greeted with bark, moss and buds, but instead with bridges, gondolas and buildings. The forest had completely vanished, having been replaced with a city that sat on a bed of sparkling water.

"What is this place?" Annabeth breathed, her eager eyes trying to absorb the amazing architecture that spiraled, curved and wind from turret to balcony to parapet from rooftop. The entire city sported a cyan tint as all the structures were designed to adopt and adapt the colors of the reflections of the water.

"What is this place?" Annabeth breathed, her eager eyes trying to absorb the amazing architecture that spiraled, curved and twister from turret to balcony to parapet from spire. The entire city sported a cyan tint as all the structures were designed to adopt the colors of the reflections of the water.

"Astral, the heart of all the conurbations."

Annabeth stood, speechless, as pedestrians made their way down the slim and winding paths, forking between impossibly narrow alleyways to duck into shops and stores; the gondolas, colorful little things with cherry red sterns and white trimming honked at each other from the water's surface to hurry this or that up. People bustled in and out of doors that supported large signs in a language Annabeth couldn't even begin to try to decipher. Children dashed after each other with small animals at their heels that vaguely resembled dogs and cats—save for an extra paw, two tails or a single eye. Annabeth tried to catch a second glimpse but the strange creatures bounded past her and were gone before she had a chance for a good look. Birds twittered and trilled from trees as they preened their pastel-colored feathers in the warm sun; a small band of simple musicians sat in a park, beneath these trees, playing their instruments with fervor as their nimble fingers, hands, lips and feet plucked, blew, tapped and snapped to the rhythm of music so rich Annabeth wanted to sob and laugh all the same.

"What time is it?" Annabeth suddenly said, making note of the old fashion dresses, capes and clothes the citizens wore. Her more... modern sundress was on the receiving end of odd looks and hushed whispers concealed by lace gloves, fans and handkerchiefs.

She was greatly relived when the boy replied with: "Half past four pm". It wasn't the exact answer she sought but at least she knew they shared the same understanding of time.

"And the year?" Annabeth asked tentatively.

"Two thousand eighteen," the boy said with a frown. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like: " _Must get her treated soon_..." He plucked his navy cape from the cobblestones that hadn't a spot of blood on it, lifted up Annabeth's hair and fastened the cloak around her neck.

"Stop that!" She slapped his hand away as he fiddled with the clasp. "It's like eighty degrees out! This thing is as dark as hell. I'm going to attract all the sun in the world and I'll boil and die."

"At least you'll die inconspicuously," the boy sniffed. He forcefully raised the hood over her head face and took her hand through the slot in the cloak's fabric. "Stay close, keep your head down and walk briskly."

The two set off into Astral with a cacophony of sights, smells and sounds as company—some somewhat familiar and recognizable and others completely foreign and bizarre to the blonde. Annabeth nearly caused them both to trip over a person napping on the ground as she stopped abruptly to stare at a food vendor. "Are those guinea pigs?" She whispered as she was ushered past the small rodents roasting on a spit.

The boy, on the other hand, was totally at ease among the strange city. He easily dodged rattling carts of goods, waved off haggling hawkers expertly and navigated their route with a small smile on his face. _He looked nice when he smiled,_ Annabeth thought. She widened her eyes in horror when he turned his head and winked at her. _Gah!_ She blushed brighter than a tomato.

They turned a corner and found themselves on a dock where a small ferry sat bobbing in a small canal. "M'lady," the boy said with a sweep of his hand. Annabeth rolled her eyes as she climbed into the boat. The seats were hot from sitting under the unshaded sun and Annabeth's dress was sticking her to thighs.

"Sire?" She said awkwardly after a moment of baking in the heat, watching him fiddle with goodness knows what. She laid the dagger across her knees.

The boy barely spared her an uninterested glance before looking down at his lap. He seemed to be tinkering with a sort of mechanical object. "Ah!" He finally exclaimed and bounded to the hull, Annabeth quickly catching sight of a rudder as he attached it to the boat. "A friend made this vessel as a gift and it's all quite new to me," he explained as he adjusted the levers that were to hold the rudder in place. "I just need to become more familiar with the technicalities of it all."

"How do you get about an metropolis on water if you don't know how use a boat?"

The boy smiled cattily and shook his head, a piece of black hair falling over his eyes. "I _do_ know how to use a boat. Just... not by the normal standers." Annabeth recalled his healing trick with the mist and the magical retrieving of the sword, and figured she wasn't the one to impose reality anymore.

"Can you show me?" Annabeth asked, excitement lacing her voice, expecting another magic trick. She glanced at the lively city behind them and leaned forward, lowing her voice. "Or should you not...?"

"Why, because of them? It matters little, they have seen me perform Darkcraft a multitude of times." The boy untied the boat from the dock and gently pushed off with his hand. They soon caught a bit of wind and started to glide smoothly over the water.

" _Darkcraft_?" Annabeth said, keeping her eyes trained on the rudder. "Is that what you did in the forest?"

"Yes."

"But it felt so... _nice_ ," Annabeth shuddered. "And yet..."

"It's name sounds quite the contrary?" The boy vouched.

Annabeth nodded mutely, staring at the upper level of an apartment building across the blue channel. A middle aged woman with a bundle in her arms stood at the paned glass, smiling tightly when the bundle started to wail. She bounced the baby gently, cooing softly as she patted away from the window. Annabeth had never been treated like that. Her father displayed his affections through the smallest amount of human contact that he could get away with. Forehead kisses were a rarity and hugs were out of the question.

"It doesn't matter what we call it. Magic is magic."

"That can't be entirely true—there has to be _some_ difference between good and evil," Annabeth protested.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But that is very rare. Magic is not good or evil—it just is. Always has been, always will be. Those who influence it, however, have the power to inflict it in good or evil ways. Magic is powerful, yes, but can be easily altered to personal wishes with a mere whisper of word or a slight turn of hand."

"Like the Manticore." Annabeth recalled the General as he seamlessly morphed into the monster and let out a shudder despite the sweat trickling down her neck. She would not be sleeping well any time soon.

"Like the Manticore."

"He was definitely using Darkcraft for evil intentions, right?"

"Yes... and no," the boy negotiated. "The Manticore cannot help how it was born. It is not like us, like you; it cannot evolve or grow or learn. It is stuck forever as it is. The Manticore was born with a powerful talent of entrancement but a weak mindset as an individual. It can be easily influenced, bribed or tricked into anything."

"Then who was bribing it to kill us? Or does it automatically attack every lonely girl in the Glade?" She knew she had her answer when the boy's jaw tightened.

"We need only know whom," he muttered to himself as he steered the boat.

Annabeth absentmindedly dipped her fingers in the cool water, making little patterns and trails as the vessel glided onwards. "Can _everyone_ in Astral perform Darkcraft?"

"A great deal, but not everyone."

"Will you ever tell me what you are, or who you are, or where Astral is in contrast to Othrys?"

The boy disregarded her words with a simple shrug of his shoulders. Annabeth felt furry begin to simmer in her veins. They were finally having a decent conversation and he had to go ruin it with being an utter and complete prat. She had every right to know the whereabouts of her location. As Annabeth liked to call it one her " _spur of the moments fueled by her temper_ ", she angrily leaned over and shoved him hard in the shoulder. Had they been on land and he'd anticipated her, he could've easily dodged her blow—but they were in a small boat that was momentarily unbalanced and he was not expecting her to shove him, and so the boy promptly toppled over the bow and into the water.

Annabeth wasn't too worried at first; she figured he knew how to swim after years of growing up in a city on water—but she began to grow concerned when he remained under the surface. Annabeth frowned at his still figure. She wasn't going to go have to save him, was she? She debated on poking him, seeing if she could get a reaction out of him—but leaning over that far would capsize the boat.

Annabeth sighed as the seconds ticked by. She was alone in an uncanny world with strangers who spoke a different language than her, that were plagued by horrid monsters that could only be defeated by a miracle or magic. The chances of her surviving this land without him seemed dim—as much as her pride loathed to admit—so she prepared herself to jump in after him—when she realized he wasn't there anymore.

Annabeth frantically scanned the water. Nothing. What the hell? One moment he was literally five feet away from her, and now he had disappeared. Wonderful. Just wonderful. _If some water monster had claimed his body for a snack then forget trying to save him_ , Annabeth thought furiously.

Of course, at the moment the boat tipped and successfully dumped her into the canal. Annabeth gasped and sputtered as she swallowed salt water, the burning sensation filling her nose as she was dragged down by the heavy cloak. To her surprise the water was warm—much warmer and clearer than the beaches from home. Those shores were nasty, dreary places that were used as only a form of punishment every year: family vacation.

Something shot out and grasped her arm—mental images of giant octopuses or massive squids clouded Annabeth's mind—and she fought against the grip like iron—until something grabbed her face and forced her head in its direction.

It was him.

He looked a bit miffed and very irked as Annabeth sheepishly ceased her fruitless struggle. Annabeth began to paddle up to the surface when realizing she needed air but the boy thrust out his hand and millions of little bubbles came squiggling toward the two to create a giant, personal breathing tank. Annabeth grasped as she sucked in air, vaguely wondering if there was a time limit to the bubble. The boy brushed wet hair from his eyes as he seemed to almost... say something to a school of jellyfish that bobbed curiously near the two.

"Can you speak to them? Can they hear you?" Annabeth asked with curiosity creeping at the edges of her voice.

" _Corresponding_ would be a more appropriate term to use than _speaking_ ," the boy said. "I can understand them and they me and I can communicate with them—though not through exact... words, precisely."

"Wow... can you correspond with all animals?"

"Only sea creatures, horses and monsters—but everyone can understand monsters."

Annabeth had to admit that was greatly impressed... until she remembered where she was and why. "You _idiot_!" She cried. If they weren't under water she would've shoved him out of the boat again. "I'm waiting there for minutes to see if you were dead or not—making are me think some creature ate you or whatever—not that you wouldn't deserve that fate, mind you—and then you got me down here too! Are you mental? I was terrified! You're such a _Seaweed_ _Brain_!" She seethed.

His amused expression didn't help her rising anger. She growled ferociously and began swimming back up to the surface. She felt him follow closely behind and had almost reached the bottom of the ship before it blew up inches from her away. "What the _HELL_?!" The boy yelled. The two broke the surface to find planks of wood on fire as they bobbed in the water—this was all that remained of the boat.

"Darkcraft?" Annabeth guessed as they gathered the spare pieces. A small crowd from the city had started to form. She glared at them. Yes, she loved being the entertainment.

"No. Someone rigged the boat manually."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I specifically checked to make sure there _weren't_ any spells!" He snapped.

Annabeth clamped her mouth shut.

They had to swim across to the other side of the five mile canal, but fortunately they had drifted a great deal while submerged underwater so they were already very close to land. Annabeth climbed onto a glistening white beach, amazed at how soft the sand felt under her feet. Beautiful shells, rocks and sea glass of all colors littered the sand like tiny, twinkling iridescent stones. Lining the beach was a large apartment building Annabeth noticed before, and was where the boy marched them directly to. They ascended several flights of gilded stairs before turning into a lavished hall, pausing at a door on the right. The boy slowly opened the door and beckoned her to follow him inside.

She noticed sourly that while water dripped in song from her clothes onto the decorative floor, the boy appeared completely dry. Couldn't he spare some Darkcraft to make her less sopping?

If the exterior of the building resembled what Annabeth thought she knew from Othrys, the interior was the complete opposite. For starters, the penthouse stretched as long as the hall itself and it consisted of three floors. The room was massive, open and spacey and made Annabeth feel minuscule in comparison. Floor-to-ceiling high glass windows stood on the side of the building that faced the canal; light trickling through in tiny rainbows; large tapestries hung from the walls with metal scones a lit beside them. Blue was clearly a color theme as every rug, piece of furniture and decoration was sapphire blue; there was even a fireplace oriented with azure tiles.

"Sweetheart?" A woman with curly brown hair and topaz eyes appeared through a door. Her cobalt blue dress swayed as she approached them.

"Mother," the boy said in a friendly greeting and Annabeth could clearly see the resemblance between mother and son.

"I was beginning to worry you'd lost your way..." the woman trailed off as she took in Annabeth's appearance.

"This girl needs your help," said the boy. "I found her in the Glade and we ran into the Manticore. I did what I could but she was wounded and now suffers from blood poisoning."

The woman smiled warmly at Annabeth as she took the younger girl's hands in her own. Very few people saw Annabeth's vulnerable side, and even fewer made her feel safe. It was an impressive count of three: Malcom, Thalia and Luke—but Annabeth felt that she could put complete trust in this kind stranger, despite having just met her.

"Welcome, my dear. You can call me Sally. You look awfully tired, when was the last you've eaten?"

Annabeth's head was spinning. "T-this morning," she stuttered.

Sally tisked and shook her head. "As I thought. You young people really ought to take better care of yourselves—I'm surprised you're still standing in your condition."

"The poison?" The boy coughed.

"Yes. Of course. Follow me, dear." Sally led Annabeth through the penthouse and into a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. "There was fresh clothes in the draws. Put them on and tell me once you're ready." Sally gave her another smile and gently shut the door.

 _ **A/N: Please review!!!**_


	9. Hidden Meanings

_**A/N: Ahhh! I'm finally posting again. Don't worry guys, even if it seems like I've abandoned this story, I promise that I haven't. I have such an interesting story line and plot and characters that I have yet to develop and introduce to this story, so I'm not going anywhere any time soon.**_

 _ **(Also, I'm currently on season 4 of Merlin and I'm currently freaking out. WHY DOES IT ONLY HAVE 5 SEASONS. IT DESERVES LIKE 1OOOOOOO MORE. COLIN AND BRADLEY AND ANGLE AND KATIE AND MY HEART I CAN'T EVEN OMGS I'M ALMOST DONEEEE. Okay. Small rant over.)**_

 **Chapter 8: Hidden Meanings**

"All ready?"

Annabeth had thrown on a simple gray shift she had snagged from the mahogany dresser and chucked off her spoiled shoes and socks into a corner, abandoned and still damp. She opened the door to find both Sally and the boy waiting for her outside. Sally swept into the room with towels on her arm, laying them over the covers and patting the bed. Annabeth gingerly laid on her back, inhaling sharply as Sally raised the shift.

"Poison indeed," she muttered as she poked and prodded Annabeth's side. Sally glanced at the boy. "Did you close the wound?"

He nodded once.

"I don't know if I should praise you or scold you."

"The latter sounds fine to me," Annabeth piped up. Sally hid a smile.

"You ceased the blood flow and prevented infection, yet succeeded in trapping the poison in her veins."

"Which would you had rather me done?" The boy said exasperatedly. "Let her die of infection, blood loss or poison?"

"I don't know." Sally bit her lip.

"...Will you do something about it?" Annabeth whispered, her side hurting more then ever.

"Of course," Sally reassured her. "Per—" the boy coughed violently into his fist. "Darling, grab my black bag from the cupboard. It should have everything in it." The boy rushed out the door, leaving Annabeth and Sally alone.

Sally cleared her throat to break the silence. "How old are you, dear?"

"Sixteen," Annabeth replied. "How old is your son?"

"Seventeen." Annabeth couldn't hide the surprise that danced across her face. "Yes, he can seem a bit much sometimes," Sally laughed. She brushed wisps away from Annabeth's face and the younger girl couldn't help but like the maternal gesture.

"Will there be an IV?" Annabeth asked, recalling a book she had read that included a wide verity of medical knowledge, extensively on blood poisoning and how to treat it.

Sally nodded, observing Annabeth's unpleasant expression. "It will only be to sedate you," she said. Like that was supposed to be reassuring. "I am hoping we can easily purge the poison from your body—it is still quite fresh and shallow in your veins... should be a simple task... Had you arrived an hour earlier, however, your fate might be all the very different."

Annabeth mutely glanced out the window that looked over the busy city. Everyone moved with purpose outside in a sea of colorful fabrics—even the homeless folks were begging for scraps and money with vengeance—yet Annabeth was condemned to lying helplessly on a bed, unable to do nothing. She glared at the bright blue skies and puffy white clouds with a bitter taste in her mouth. Annabeth hated feeling weak. Her pride was battered and fuming with the desire to prove that she was anything but helpless.

The boy returned to the room with a black handle bag and immediately began to assemble an IV pole, bag and needle.

"Can't you just use magic?" Annabeth said desperately.

Sally shook her head as she produced a match from her apron pocket; striking it upon the windowsill, admitting a small flame from the tip. The boy passed her a surgeon's knife, sterilizing the blade with the flame.

"Some injuries can be treated by Darkcraft, and others only by mortal medicine," the boy explained.

"But the Manticore scratched me... doesn't that count as a magically influenced wound?" Annabeth recalled the ball of mist the boy had conjured in the woods and decided she liked the idea of magic over needles.

"The Manticore was magical, yes, but it's claws possessed no more Darkcraft than a normal bear's jaw—had it been the tail that struck you, the treatment would be significantly different. Darkcraft can only treat Darkcraft, I'm afraid."

Annabeth groaned as she flopped back onto the pillows.

Sally fastened a tourniquet above her elbow and instructed Annabeth to clench her hand into a fist. As Sally positioned the needle upon the surface of her skin Annabeth made Sally count to three before sticking her.

"Count to twenty, please," came Sally's soothing voice.

" _One... two... three... four..._ " Almost immediately Annabeth felt the IV's sedation effecting her senses. " _Five... six... seven... eight..._ " Her tongue became muddled and her eyelids grew heavy. " _Ten... eleven... fifteen... sixteen... eighteen..._ " Her vision blurred at the edges and her head felt dizzy and fuzzy, like someone had stuffed cotton balls into her skull. Oh-so-slowly, Annabeth was swept away into the beckoning darkness of unconsciousness.

 _She was back in the Chasm. Everything was dim and dark; the air smelled of chilled corpses and brittle flesh and the temperature was well below freezing. Icicles hung from the cold dirt walls and frost coated every stone and root. A tall figure sat on the edge of the couloir, swinging its legs merrily as it perched above an eighty foot drop._

 _"Be careful!" Annabeth called as rocks tumbled into the dark abyss below. She did not feel her lips move or her throat open, yet both she and the other inhabitant both heard her words as clear as day echo throughout the Chasm._

 _The figure turned to her, flashing her an impish grin. "It is you who should be careful," he advised. He wore a simple brown tunic with laced sandals and he had no cloak, yet seemed unaffected by the cold atmosphere._

 _"After all; you **did** almost died **twice** today. It would be such a shame to have to replace you so soon... we did see potential... success... value. Such a shame to throw it all away the second you arrived." _

_Annabeth found herself slowly approaching the pit, the boy, drawn to him in an unexplainable manner. What bothered her most was his face, or lack of; his features were veiled behind shadows and her own blurry conscious—only his eyes were sharply defined in a golden glow—as if to remind her that this was, after all, only a silly dream._

 _"Who are you? Why are you here? Why am **I** here?"_

 _The boy furrowed his brow. He appeared lost in thought. "I am not sure," he said at last. A sad look appeared on his face and Annabeth wished nothing more than to give him a hug. "Some day's I am him... weak... sour... troubled... afraid... And other days I am of an entirely... other... **essence**... And oh, how I long to be freed! Freed of the imprisonments that have been bestowed upon on us. _

_"As for you, your mind did all the work. You wished to see the Chasm again, and I never refuse an order. I serve to please!" He giggled maniacally as he swung his arm._

 _"But I don't recall wishing to be back here," Annabeth protested. Why would she want to visit this dreary, haunted place again?_

 _"It did not have to be a conscious desire," he informed her. He kicked his legs and a piece of brown hair fell in his eyes. "Tell me, what is it like to belong to your own mind... your own will?"_

 _"I... don't know." Regular-Annabeth would've found this whole conversation very odd, but Dream-Annabeth only shrugged her shoulders carelessly._

 _The boy grinned, widening his mouth in a victorious smile. "Of course you don't know! As if—we are the same, you and I. Very similar indeed!" He leapt from the chasm's edge and stalked to Annabeth, plucking a branch incrusted in ice from a tree ingrown in the earth._

 _"I am sorry to have to let you go so soon," he sighed as he dug the frozen tip into the ground. "But He is not yet strong for a lengthier meeting. One day, though, He **shall** regain his strength, every last ounce that they have failed to rip away! One day, my dear Excellus, we shall be reunited and restored to our formal glory once more, no longer in mind but in person!" _

_The boy lifted his chin, opened his mouth and let out a shrill whistle between his teeth. He cocked his head, face tilting towards the couloir. A deafening dissonance of animalistic growls, barks and howls responded to the single note. He smiled, satisfied, and turned back to Annabeth."Can you wait? Can you wait a little while longer? Soon, my Excellus!!"_

 _The boy drew a symbol in the dirt and Annabeth felt a tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach and the space in her head. The last glimpse Annabeth caught was his golden eyes smoldering like a hot, summer night as they melted the frozen Chasm into a sea of mud and bodies._

Annabeth woke to the dying sun casting long shadows upon the walls of a vacant bedroom, and no recollection of shadow boy's or frozen corpses. An IV stuck out of the crook of her arm that connect to a barely empty bag of fluids strung onto a metal pole. A large bandage tinted red was taped to her side which was very sore, but a different kind of pain from the poison.

The bedroom was empty, the window was dark, and for a moment Annabeth was afraid and disoriented.

"Who is she?" She heard Sally whisper faintly from another room, and Annabeth could breathe again. The boy's response was too low to make out. Annabeth's abdomen throbbed as she tried to sit up. Sally sucked in her breath. "Perseus! You shouldn't have!"

"Bingo," Annabeth whispered.

"I know, I know," the boy said tiredly. "But I couldn't... she didn't... she saw through the Entrancement, Mother. She saw _through_ the Entrancement—she saw _me_! She saw my reflection in the pond while under the influence of the Glade... and I knew she was different. It was like you and Father meeting the first time. I was... drawn to her. Captivated... it was as if... as if _**I**_ was the one entranced... I couldn't help myself."

Sally sighed and shifted her weight. "I know, sweetheart. I... I was afraid this would happen, given your considerable heritage, and bloodline, and..."

"Mother, it's fine—"

"No, it isn't. This isn't the life I wanted for you, this... half life was never meant to condemn you."

Annabeth couldn't contain a yelp as she fell against the pillows, her trembling arms giving way to her dead weight. She heard the two shift and Perseus say, "I'll check on her."

Footsteps lightly patted the ground and soon his shadow filled the space beneath door. "Are you alright?" He asked as he hovered in the doorway.

"Water," Annabeth rasped.

He swept to her bedside with a full glass in his hand. Annabeth greedily slurped her fill with his aid, mindful of the line that was attached to her arm.

"What happened while I was asleep?" She gasped at last.

"We had to reopen your side to flush out the poison. Then we stitched you back up. You will be sore for a few days but you won't die," he said brightly. No wonder her side ached. "And we have painkillers should you need them."

"Is your mother a physician?" Perseus shook his head as he placed the glass on the nightstand.

"Then how is it that she's so... good at treating wounds?"

His face hardened. "She's had a lot of practice."

"Knock knock," Sally said as she rapped on the door. She stepped inside and sat on the end of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Annabeth admitted.

Sally nodded. "As is expected. Any pain, discomfort?"

"Only the stitches."

"Take two of these every six hours for the next three days." Sally produced a little bottle of red pills from her pocket and dumped a couple into Annabeth's palm. Annabeth swallowed them immediately, cringing at the sour taste. Percy handed her water to chase the pills with.

"I have a question for you," Sally said finally. "And I would like you to answer it as truthfully as possible."

"Alright," Annabeth said awkwardly as she wiped her mouth.

"Do you recall how you ended up here?"

"Perseus brought me... don't give me that look—I'm not _deaf_!" Annabeth told his enraged face.

"How much did you hear?" He growled.

"Before the forest, before the Glade," Sally redirected them with a firm tone and sharp eyes.

"The... Chasm. I was in the Chasm, and the General and Keli were there. Before that was the Marble Hall in Othrys, where Othrys is I do not know because I cannot get an answer out of your son."

Sally's face grew solemn and Annabeth feared she had failed to remember an important detail.

"Your memory is just fine," the boy reassured her. "The pure fact that you can remember is the problem."

"It is? Why?"

"They can usually recall nothing," Sally said quietly. "Their memories are cleaned and they arrive in the Glade clueless. It has always been... _done,_ this way, so that they have absolute no recollection of their past whatsoever..."

"Whom, exactly?" Annabeth pressed. "The " _Excellus_ "? The General called me that. What is it?"

"Let me see your numbers, dear," Sally said abruptly.

Annabeth's jaw dropped as she displayed her hand. "H-how?" She studied the golden numbers; she could not recall when they had stopped counting, or who it had been for. It could have been for Zoë or Perseus or some stranger in the city crowd.

Sally sent Perseus a sad smile, who held a candle high in the air. "You have your answer."

"What?" Annabeth said stupidly.

"Listen carefully, Annabeth—yes, of course I _know_ your name; I knew it within the first five minutes of meeting you!" He exclaimed. "What do you expect? I can _read_ your _mind_."

Annabeth tried to contort her features into a more pleasant expression: it was difficult.

Perseus haggardly ran his hands over his face. "You cannot tell anyone, anyone, my name. You must keep it to yourself, at all costs. You have no idea what power it attains."

"It must be a great deal for you to conceal it so greatly," Annabeth commented. "Especially for Zoë's Hunter."

She did not miss the way Perseus's face whitened, or how Sally placed a hand on his shoulder.

"If spoken by certain Craftling's, names can possess enough power to lord control over their owners. One can command the evilest of deeds... horrific acts... even summon the _dead_ with a simple name. Bianca was no different. She was foolish enough to believe Zoë... foolish enough to think that the Hunter's oath could withstand such Darkcraft. Ultimately, her blind trust got her killed... And yet, Zoë still recruits new Hunters and weaves them lies of false truth."

Annabeth allowed him a moment of bitter contemplation.

"I... shall keep your name in secrecy," she said after a moment. Perseus let out an exhale of breath. "But I want something in return."

"That being?"

Annabeth met his eyes with a determined, challenging stare. She didn't care if she couldn't pick up a glass of water without assistance or if she was too weak to sit up. She wanted answers, and she would see that he would provide them with every ounce of strength she had left.

"Help me get home."

Sally made a sound in her throat, and she and her son shared a glance of hidden meanings.

The pain pills must've kicked into her system, for Annabeth slipped into unconsciousness once more before she could hear Perseus's response.

 ** _A/N: please review!_**

 ** _I saw that someone said my story was confusing, and for that I apologize. I have been aiming for it to be mysterious and intriguing, not utterly confusing. My suggestion is to review Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson books again. They might clear some things up in this story._**

 ** _Or not! :)))_**

 ** _(C'mon, I'm a writer! You really think I'd tell you my secrets?)_**


	10. The Figure in the Shadows

_A/N: Hullo! I'm alive! I sincerely apologize for the lack in updates. I got myself logged out of my account and I couldn't log back in for the longest time. But I am back and still very eager to continue this story, so continue this story we shall!_

 **Chapter 9: The Figure in the Shadows**

She was huddled in a dark, cramped space with her knees hugged to her chest. Fear clawed at her senses but she couldn't afford to succumb to the welcoming stillness. It would be so simple to only give in, give up... but not yet. Not now. Not here.

Heavy footsteps thundered upon the floor as their owner ambled up a flight of stairs.

"Darling! Darling, where are you?" It was a woman's high, sweet voice, searching for her child.

Annabeth stifled a sob as the footsteps crept closer. She crouched in a small linen closet on the second floor of an old, rickety house. It would've been the perfect hiding place; small enough to maybe even deceive her into looking it over... but it lacked a lock, a dire factor ever a child as young as she knew was important.

"Darling?" Annabeth heard a door creak open somewhere down the hall. The woman's movements paused as she peered into the room before she closed the door.

The footsteps came closer.

Annabeth buried her face in her arms and folded herself into a little ball. Dread wound tight coils in her stomach and she felt her throat constrict in fear. Oh gods, she couldn't breathe. Annabeth choked for air, but it was a fruitless attempt. Her heart pounded as she grew dizzy. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe _shecouldn'tbreatheshecouldn'tbreatheshecouldn't_ —

"Darling, where are you? Don't hide now, it isn't the time to play hide and go seek! I'm starting to worry," the woman fretted. "I've made your favorite snack; homemade chocolate chip cookies! Your father wishes to see you, dear boy, as do I. Why don't you come out? We want to see you!"

Annabeth felt a sudden shift in the air. She opened her eyes to find the outline of the Chasm child staring at her intently. Like before, his person was hidden in shadows and darkness, yet Annabeth knew in her gut that it was the same boy.

"She lies," the blurry figure laughed gleefully. It was like watching swirling fog trying to speak. "She never cared. Not once did she ever think of him, of her son. Not once did she ever consider his wants... his needs... his feelings... his wishes. It was always all about her. How could it not be? Narcissistic mothers class 1O1."

As the boy spoke shadows blurred and came rushing toward Annabeth in ebony streaks, filling her vision with absolute darkness. Out of instinct she squeezed her eyes together. When the darkness subsided, she opened them. Annabeth found herself still confined in the closet—but a small, quivering mess of limbs had taken her spot on the floor.

Annabeth and the boy stood side by side in the shadows as they watched the small figure cower in fear. Annabeth's person was as transparent as smoke but the boy had an aura around him that softly shone gold in the dark. A small smirk played on his lips.

"And his father?" He continued. "The man she claimed to have loved her, to have loved him... to have loved the batty old woman and her worthless son? Ha! His father? Neither have seen the piece of scum in seven years."

"Darling boy? Please, it's time to stop hiding now!"

The small figure whimpered and began rocking himself as he muttered incoherent things. Children often feared the dark and the horrors that it homed, but this boy found solace and safety inside small closets and beneath dusty beds.

"What is she going to do to him?" Annabeth asked fearfully.

The boy in the shadows turned to her, his gold eyes gleaming with mischief and delight. "Watch!"

The door creaked open, allowing a small shaft of light entrance, illuminating the small child and his tear stricken face. Now that she could see clearly, for the first time Annabeth noticed finger-shaped bruises littering his arms.

"There you are!" The woman, a slight thing with stringy hair and blue eyes, grabbed the child and crushed him to her chest in a hug. "I was looking all over for you sweetie!"

"I-I know," he muttered under his breath.

His remark unheard, the mother pulled her sniffling son down the stairs. Annabeth slowly followed the two with the figure from the Chasm at her heels. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "What will happen to the boy?"

"Watch," was all he said.

The women lead the boy and her phantom guests through a living room and into a kitchen. She sat the boy in a chair and plopped a sandwich in front of him. Peanut butter oozed between the pieces of bread.

"Eat!"

The child chewed slowly, as if calculating his every bite. He watched his mother through hooded eyes as she bustled around the kitchen. "Where is he?" the boy asked over soft sniffles.

"Who, sweetie?" she said.

"Dad."

"Your father? Why would you ask such an absurd thing? Darling, he's gone. Has been for years, now. What a silly question."

"But y-you said he was looking for me!" The child cried, eyes flashing. His expression wasn't that of anger, or disappointment, but almost of... expectation. "You said so yourself!"

The woman turned with a plate of cookies in her hand, a cross expression on her face. "I said no such thing."

"What's wrong with her?" Annabeth whispered as the boy slumped in his seat. "Does she have Dementia? Alzheimer's? Short term memory loss?"

The golden-eyed figure shook his head. "She suffers from something much greater... something much more complicated then a _mortal_ illness."

"Now, I've prepared your lunch for school," the mother was saying. She presented a brown paper bag with a large smiley face on the front. "Make sure to keep it cold before you eat it, otherwise it'll get all mushy. Oh, and I also packed you a box of kool-aid. Your favorite!"

"Mommy," the boy said. "It's Saturday. I don't have school the S days."

The smile slipped off her face. "Oh. Right. Yes, of course. How silly of me to forget... I'll just put it in the fridge, and we can have it for breakfast."

"D-don't you mean dinner?"

She furrowed her brow. "Yes. That's what I said. Dinner." She hummed to herself as she sauntered over to the refrigerator.

"Was it Darkcraft that made her this way?" Annabeth whispered.

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner!"

"Mommy?" the child said. "M-Mommy? Mommy?"

His mother had frozen with one hand on the refrigerator door, bag of lunch in the other, back turned to all. She began to shake violently and the boy made a run for the stairway, only to be grabbed by the women in a death-like-grip.

" _Prevail... torture... redemption_ ," she hissed. Her blue eyes clouded over with green light and mist came pooling out of her mouth. " _Must... cease... warn... or die..."_

"Mommy?" the little boy whimpered as her nails dug into his arm. "You're hurting me! Let go! Go back, please, go back! You're hurting me! "

Annabeth knew now why the child hid... why he weeped... why and what and who he feared.

" _Husband! Tell him! Tell our boy not_ —" the women froze again, and everything returned to normal. Her eyes were blue and the mist disappeared, but the unsettling feeling in the air wasn't so easy to be rid of.

"I don't want to see this," Annabeth said as she turned away from the two. "Get me out of here. Take me away."

The golden-eyed boy shook his head regretfully. "It's a shame, really."

"What is?" Annabeth snapped.

"Why, you could learn so much from this... from them. An entire future could be altered by a few unsettling moments. Will your choices write this ending?"

"I don't care. This is beyond unsettling—it's _disturbing_. Take me away."

The child withdrew the frozen branch from his sleeve—now a fully-sized wooden staff—and drew the same symbol on the floor. "Life is but the fragments of our forgotten dreams."

He, the women and her son faded out of view.


	11. Good Early Morning

**Chapter 10: Good Early Morning**

Annabeth roused once more to a note pinned to the night table and a massive headache to accompany it.

 _Will discuss over breakfast._

Annabeth's stomach growled at the thought of food. She raised her head and deeply inhaled the divine aroma of fresh bread and fruit. She could simply live off the scent itself, it smelled so delicious. With renewed strength Annabeth carefully sat up, mindful of her stitches, and eased her way off the bed. A black dressing robe had been draped over the night table which Annabeth quickly slipped in to, thankful for the warmth to fight off the cold bite of the morning.

But now that she thought about it, the bedroom was absolutely freezing. Sally or Percy must've opened the window while she was asleep, for the shutters fluttered like brown wings of a moth in the morning draft from the ocean breeze. Annabeth moved aside a heavy curtain and peered out at the city that was not yet awake. The metropolis was bathed in inky darkness as the sky had yet to reflect upon the water and the water upon the city; only a couple pinpricks of piercing lights determined the few souls who braved the early morning dim and chill.

Annabeth could scarcely make out the distant shapes of gondolas drifting in the canal, small forms of people as they slept in doorways and under bridges, or even the hazy skyline of the city itself. A covering of stars guarded the citizens as they slumbered; inaudibly they communicated to one another with twinkles, glimmers and gleams.

During the bright of day Astral had captivated Annabeth with its magnificent architecture and dazzling sights; but in the dark of early morn the girl found herself completely bewitched by the silent, majestic city.

Annabeth lightly padded out of the bedroom, following her nose down hallways and past locked doors to the source of food. She found Perseus in a tiled kitchen, his sleeves pushed past his elbows and an expression of determination on his face. A large fire roared in the far corner for heat and for light.

"Good morning," she said quietly as not to disturb the reverence of cooking. Perseus grunted in reply. He wore the same breeches as before (or perhaps they were a different pair of the same style), a plain cotton t-shirt and still no shoes. His cape was missing (it was balled up in Annabeth's room) but a beaded necklace replaced the ties on his neck.

Perseus plucked a sphere of dough from the counter top and began to knead it mercilessly, succeeding in squashing the ball between his thin and nimble fingers. Annabeth watched him repeat this failure over and over again. She swept over to the large, brick fireplace and pulled out a burning piece of bread.

"Mother usually cooks," he told her sheepishly as she choked on smoke.

 _No wonder._

"Where is she?" Annabeth rasped.

"Resting. Yesterday night she received an unexpected call after you fell asleep."

"Oh."

Annabeth tossed the burnt bread aside. She took the squashed dough from Perseus and quickly kneaded it, her stomach growling. She was eager on eating today. Perseus swooped in with honey when she was done, drizzling the sticky substance all over the ball of dough before throwing it into the oven.

The two waited in awkward silence for the bread to bake.

"How do you fare?" Perseus said finally.

"Sore," Annabeth grumbled. No thanks to him. "And famished."

Perseus grabbed an apple from a bowl and tossed it to Annabeth. Red splotches immediately appeared on his face as she bit into the juicy skin. "Er..."

Annabeth had written a fifteen paged essay on their ancient history... she knew that throwing an apple to a girl was their Ancestor's version of a marriage proposal.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline," she sighed melancholy and leaned against the counter. "You see, we're hardly even on a first name basis so I'll have to refuse."

Perseus rolled his eyes at her dramatics and began to clean up the leftover ingredients from making breakfast. She watched him bustle around the kitchen, putting different jars in cupboards and plates in a weird looking thing she could only assume was the sink.

"Percy," he finally said, turning to her. "Short for Perseus. You did say we're barely on a first-name basis, no? I say we alter that."

"Alright." Annabeth stuck out her hand, sticky with apple juice. "Annabeth Chase.

He shook it gingerly. "Percy Jackson." The moment their hands touched, the world went dark. Percy's entire childhood was on display for Annabeth in an array of sights and sound. Images of a young Percy filtered into Annabeth's mind.

 _Growing up in Astral with Sally... learning how to grow herbs in the garden... meeting the man who he once called stepfather... practicing Darkcraft for the first time... running into a man with similar features as himself while swimming in the canal... honing sparring techniques with a man in a wheelchair... entering an arena to_ _meet a raven haired girl... visiting the Glade for the first time... perfecting his Darkcraft that just begged to be released... fighting monsters and other Craftlings alike..._

A multitude of words and noises accompanied these images.

 _A softly whispered, "I love you I love you I love you, don't you ever doubt that"... the_ _soothing waves crashing upon the sand... a cold reminder, "do not forget who you_ _are"... the clashing of steel against iron... a childish plea, "don't let him forget... please, don't let him forget_ _me, I beg of you"... dolphin squeaks and chitters as they call to one another... a weary word of advice, "you can only be who you, alone, choose to become"... a dog's bark as it happily greets its companion... a tearful scream, "I thought you were my friend! I thought you were good! I thought... I thought..."... a cacophony of animalistic screams and cries as they are torn apart by a metal blade..._

Annabeth's eyes flew open. She gasped for breath as she took in Percy's hunched form, frozen and braced against the counter. That man she saw, Gabriel... she understood why Sally was so talented in the medic field, and Annabeth understood why Percy had detested the thought of home so much.

"What was that?" Annabeth licked her dry lips.

Percy shook his head, eyes fixated on a very interesting spot on the wall. "I can only — I dare to assume— that is, it isn't entirely possible — but it's highly unlikely..."

"Percy?"

He reluctantly met her gaze.

"According to the legends I've heard and the records I've studied... that was a Mating."

Annabeth couldn't help but laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh, until she choked on laughter. Mating was supposed to be liberating and happy but she couldn't seem to shake the chill that had settled in her bones ever since the Chasm. "That's preposterous. My numbers have already stopped counting."

Percy developed a tick in his jaw. "I am aware."

Annabeth laughed again. He did not. She sobered, studying his frowning face. "You're serious." Percy nodded tightly. "But I've seen people Mate — my father, my brother, my friend — I was there for the entire Soulmating ceremony! Not once did they..." her hands fluttered aimlessly in the air, searching for the right words. "Experience what just... what just... happened."

"I know," was all he said. He brushed past her to take the bread out of the oven. He dueled out large portions for them both and left the rest in the oven.

"Then what... what happened? What was that?"

"I don't know!" He snapped, a flush appearing on his cheeks.

Annabeth glared at the counter top, angrily chewing her bread into mush. She occupied herself by imagining it was Percy's bones she was grinding into dust instead of pieces of crust. She wished Sally was here—preferably awake—to tell her everything would be alright. Yes, she barely knew the woman (and her son was prone to cause Annabeth hair pulling and nail biting) but yet... Sally projected a loving aura that Annabeth found herself drawn to, even more so than Frederick or Helen or Malcom put together.

And even Thalia. As much as Annabeth loved the girl that was more of a sister than friend, she felt that Thalia had somehow distanced herself as they grew older. Thalia would never keep something from Annabeth as she did in the White Hall.

"I know someone who might be able to provide us some answers," Percy said at last. He seemed a bit calmer and his cheeks weren't flaming.

"Your mentor?" Annabeth guessed, recalling the man in the wheelchair from... whatever that was.

"Indeed. He is very knowledgeable... he must know something worth while."

"Would he by chance know anything of my situation?" Annabeth held her breath.

"I don't know," Percy said truthfully. "It is possible he could assist you... and equally possible that he will have nothing to offer."

"Perfect. Great." Annabeth inhaled the remainder of her breakfast and brushed off her hands. Her headache had gone. "Let us go."

Percy's eyebrows shot up. "Now?"

"No, at Christmas—yes _now!_ "

"We cannot just get up and _leave_ ," Percy stressed. "Camp Half Blood is too far of a journey to simply pack up and go. We need to plan, and pack, and devise a proper d—"

"Camp Half Blood?"

"It is a training camp in the Empyrean Realm. My mentor resides there."

"Where is it that?"

Percy ran out of the kitchen with Annabeth's unanswered question hanging in the air. He returned with a pile of large scrolls that turned out to be maps and charts as he spread them out upon the counter. "There are many conurbations that make up our region. Some are small, some are large, Astral is the second largest in the land."

"What's the largest?"

Percy gave her a sideways glance. "Othrys."

"Othrys?"

"Did I stutter?"

Annabeth scanned the map for her home city. Inked borders and dotted lines made up various metropolises and conurbations that belonged to the region. A large portion of the map was one realm, sliced in half by an image of a sword and a scythe. The left half consisted of lakes and rivers and was labeled in gilded letters, while the right half of the realm was made up of deserts, wastelands and swamps and was labeled in black thread. Astral was located in the left half, the light half, as was Othrys and the Empyrean Realm. The right portion was not labeled.

"We are here. And Camp Half Blood is here," Percy said as he place his finger to a large dot symbolizing the capital and dragged it northwood to where the paper read CHB.

"It is a day's journey by sea—"

"No," Annabeth said. "I'm not going on a boat again. Gods know how the first trip ended up."

Percy slitted his eyes. "And who's fault was that? We were doing perfectly fine before you attacked me like a rabid animal."

"You gave me a purpose so I took it," Annabeth shrugged. "Besides, if we hadn't capsized then we would've been blown to pieces and where would we be then? Ah. And, speaking of such, why _was_ our boat rigged?"

"Yes, that," Percy frowned. "It is rather... complicated..." He shifted uneasily and Annabeth knew a secret assasin was another thing to add to the list of things he wouldn't tell her.

"Your boat was rigged?" Sally stood on the threshold, mug of tea in her hands. "You didn't tell me that part." The two had a conversation without words and Sally said no more. "Go, then," she said. "It's far too important to wait another day. Annabeth dear, lovely to meet you. Do try to take care of yourself. You only have one body, after all. And Percy, don't be stupid."


End file.
